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Digitized  by  the  Internet  Archive 

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http://www.archive.org/details/horaelyricaepoemOOwatt 


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HORJE    LTRICJE.     '■ 


POEMS 

Chiefly  of  the  Lyric  Kind. 

In     THREE     BOOKl, 

SACRED  '<£ 

T-,  To  Devotion  and  Piett.  sin     -I  g  1936 

II.  To  Virtue,  Honour,  amHfeaiENDSH-i*. 

To  the  Memory  of  the  ibis^jf'f,;         |    C!   ,'V>X 


III 


By     I.     WATTS,    D.  D. 


Si  «o;j  Uranie  Lyram 

C<Bleft£m  cokibet,  nee  Polyhymnia 
Humanum  refugit  tenderc  Barbiton. 

Kor.  Od.  I.  imitat. 


PHILADELPHIA: 

Printed  and  Sold  by    R.    AITKE  N,    at 

Pope's  Head,   Three  Doors  above  the 

Coffee  House,  Market  Street, 

M,   DCC.LXXXI, 


THE 

PREFACE. 


IT  has  been  a  long  complaint  of  the  virtuous  and 
refined  world,  that  poefy,  whofe  original  is  di- 
vine, fhould  be  enflaved  to  vice  and  profanenefs; 
that  an  art  infpired  from  heaven,  fhould  havefo  far 
loft  the  memory  of  its  birth-place,  as  to  be  engaged 
in  the  interefts  of  hell.  How  unhappily  is  it  per- 
verted from  its  moft  glorious  defign !  How  bafely  has 
it  been  driven  away  from  its  proper  ftation  in  the 
temple  of  God,  and  abufed  to  much  difnonour !  The 
iniquity  of  men  has  constrained  it  to  ferve  their 
vileft  purpofes,  while  the  fons  of  piety  mourn  the 
facrilege  and  the  fhame. 

The  eldefr.  fong  which  biftory  has  brought  down 
to  our  ears,  was  a  noble  ad  of  worfhip  paid  to  the 
God  of  Ifrael,  when  his  right  hand  became  glorious  in 
power;  -when  thy  right  band,  0  Lord,  dajl)ed  in  fieces 
the  enemy j  the  chariots  c/Pharaoh  and  his  bvjlswere 
cafi  into  the  Red-Sea;  thou  didjl  blow  -with  thy  -wind,  the 
deep  covered  them,  and  they  Jank  as  lead  in  the  might  f 
-waters,  Exod.  xv.  This  art  was  maintained  facred 
through  the  following  ages  of  the  church,  and  em- 
ployed by  kings  and  prophets,  by  David,  Solomon 
and  Isaiah,  in  defcribing  the  nature  and  the  glories 
of  God,  and  in  conveying  grace  or  vengeance  to  the 
hearts  of  men.  By  this  method  they  brought  fo 
much  of  heaven  down  to  this  lower  world,  as  the 
darknefsof  that  difpenfation  would  admit :  and  now 
and  then  a  divine  and  poetic  rapture  lifted  their  fouls 
A  a  fav  . 


iv  The     P  R  E  F  A  C  E. 

far  above  the  level  of  that  ceconomy  of  fhadows,  bore 
them  away  far  into  a  brighter  region,  and  gave  them 
a  glimpfe  of  evangelic  day.  The  life  of  angels  was 
harmonioufly  breathed  into  the  children  of  Adam, 
and  their  minds  raifed  near  to  heaven  in  melody  and 
devotion  at  once. 

In  the  younger  days  of  heathenifm  the  mufes  were 
devoted  to  the  fame  fervice :  the  language  in  which 
old  Hesiod  addrcfTes  them  is  this: 

Pierian  mufes,  fan-fa] for  heavenly  lays, 

Defcend,  and  ftng  the  God  your  father's  praife. 
And  he  purfues  the  fubject  in  ten  pious  lines,  which 
3  could  not  forbear  to  tranferibe,  if  the  afpetl  and 
found   of  fo   much   Greek  were   not  terrifying  to  a 
nice  reader. 

But  fbme  of  the  latter  poets  of  the  Pagan  world 
have  debafed  this  divine  gift;  and  many  of  the 
writers  of  the  fir  ft  rank,  in  this  our  age  of  national 
ChrijTians,  have  to  their  t^-vnal  fhame,  furpaded  the 
vileftof  the  Gentiles.  They  have  not  only  difrobed 
religion  of  all  the  ornaments  of  verfe,  but  have  em- 
ployed their  pens  in  impious  mifchief  to  deform  her 
native  beauty  and  defile  her  honours.  They  have 
expofed  her  mod  facred  character  to  drollery,  and 
d reded  her  up  in  a  moft  vile  and  ridiculous  dilguife, 
for  the  fcorn  of  the  ruder  herd  of  mankind.  The 
vices  have  been  painted  like  fo  many  goddedes,  the 
charms  of  wit  have  been  added  to  debauchery,  and 
the  temptation  heightened  where  nature  needs  the 
ftrongeft  reftr.int.  With  fweetnefs  of  found,  and 
delicacy  of  expreffion,  they  have  given  a  relilh  to 
blafphemies  of  the  harfheft  kind;  and  when  they 
rant  at  their  Maker  in  fonorous  numbers,  they 
fancy  themfelves  to  have  acted  the  hero  well. 

Thus  almoft  in  vain  have  the  throne  and  the  pul- 
pit cried  reformation;  while  the  flage  and  licentious 

poem? 


The     PREFACE.  v 

poems  have  waged  open  war  with  the  pious  defign  of 
church  and  irate.     The  prefs  has  fpread  the  poifon 
far,  and  fcattered  wide   the  mortal  infection :  un- 
thinking youth  have  been  enticed  to  fin  beyond  the 
vicious  propensities  of  nature,  plunged   early  into 
difeafes  and  death,  and  funk  down  to  damnation  in. 
multitudes.     Was  it  for  this,  the  poefy  was  endued 
with  all  thofe  allurements  that  lead  the  mind  away 
in  a  pleafing  captivity?  Was  it  for  this  fhe  was  fur- 
nifhed  with  fo  many  intellectual  charms,  that  the 
might  feduce  the  heart  from   GOD   the  original 
beauty,  and  the  molt  lovely  of  beings  ?  Can  I  ever 
be  perfuaded,  that  thofe  fweet  and  refifMefs  forces  of 
metaphor,  wit,  found  and  number,  were  given  with 
this  defign,  that  they  fhould  be  all  ranged  under  the 
banner  of  the  great  malicious  fpirit,  to  invade  the 
lights  of  heaven,  and  to  bring  fwift  and  everlafting 
deirruction  upon  men?  How  will  thefe  allies  of  the 
nether  world,  the  lewd  and  the  prophane  verfifiers, 
fland  aghaft  before  the  great  Judge,  when  the  blood 
of  many  fouls  whom  they  never  faw,  fhall  be  laid  to- 
the  charge  of  their  writings,  and  be  dreadfully  re- 
quired at  their  hands?  The  Reverend  Mr.  Collier. 
has  fet  this  awful  fcene  before  them  in  jufi;  and 
flaming  colours.     If  the  application  were  not  too 
rude   and  uncivil,  that  noble  flanza   of  my  Lord 
Roscommon,  on  PJalm  cxlviii.  might  be  addrefled 
to  them; 

Ye  dragons  ivhofe  contagious  IreatH 
Peoples  the  dark  retreats  of  death, 
Change  your  dire  hiffings  into  heavenly  Jongs , 
Andpraife  your  Maker  -with  your  forked  tongues. 
This  profanation  and  debafement  of  fo  divine  an 
art,  has  tempted  fome  weaker  chriftians  to  imagine 
that  poetry  and  vice  are  naturally  akin ;  or  at  leafiV 
that  verfe  is  fit  only  to  recommend  trifles,  and  en- 
A  3  tertain 


vi  The     PREFACE. 

terta  in  orr  loofer  hours,  but  it  is  too  light  and  tri- 
vial a  method  to  treat  any  thing  that  is  ferious  and 
facred.  They  fubmit  indeed  to  ufe  it  in  divine  pfal- 
mody,  but  they  love  the  dried  tranflation  of  the  pfalm 
belt.  They  will  venture  to  fing  a  dull  hymn  or  two 
at  church,  in  tunes  of  equal  diillnefs;  but  ftill  they 
perfuadethemfelves,  and  their  children  that  the  beau- 
ties of  poefy  are  vain  and  dangerous.  All  that  arifes 
a  degree  above  Mr.  Sternhold  is  too  airy  for  wor- 
ship, and  hardly  efcapes  the  fentence  of  unclean  and 
abom'inahle.  'Tis  ftrange  that  perfons  that  have  the 
Eible  in  their  hands,  fhould  be  led  away  by  thought- 
lefs  prejudices  to  lb  wild  and  rafh  an  opinion.  Let 
me  entreat  th>em  not  to  indulge  this  four,  this  cen- 
forious  humour  too  far,  left  the  facred  writers  fall- 
under  the  lafh  of  their  unlimited  and  unguarded  re- 
proaches. Let  me  entreat  them  to  look  into  their 
J]ibles,  and  remember  the  ftile  and  way  of  writing 
that  is  ufed  by  the  ancient  phropbets.  Have  they 
forgot,  or  were  they  never  told,  that  many  parts  of 
the  Old  Teftament 'were  Hebrew  verfe  ?  and  the  fi- 
gures are  ftrongr,  and  the  metaphors  bolder,  and 
the  images  more  furprizing  and  ftrange  than  ever  I 
read  in  any  prophane  writer.  When  Deborah  fings 
her  praifes  to  the  GOD  of  Ifrael  while  he  marched 
from  the  field  of  Edom,  fhe  fetsthe  earth  atrembling, 
the  heavens  drop,  and  the  mountains  dijj'olve  from  before 
the  Lord.  They  fought  from  heaven,  the  ft  an  in  their 
courfes  fought  again]rS\sz-RA  :  -when  the  river  of Kifhon 
fwept  them  away,  that  ancient  river,  the  river  Kifnon. 
*0  my  foul,  thou  haft  trodden  do-wnftrength,  Judg.  v.  &c. 
When  Elxphas,  in  the  book  of  Job,  fpeaks  his 
fenft  of  the  holinefs  of  God,  he  introduces  a  ma- 
chine in  a  vifion  :  Fear  came  upon  me,  trembling  on 
all  my  bones,  the  hair  of  my  fie fo  flood  up  ;  a  (pint  pajfed 
by  and  ftood  ftill,  but  its  form  -was  andifcernible  ;  an 

image 


The     P  R  E  F  A  C  E.         vii 

image 'before  mine  eyes;  and  filence ;  Then  I  hear  da 
voice,  faying,  Jhall  mortal  man  be  morejuft  than-God? 
&c.  Job  iv.  When  he  defcribes  the  fafety  of  the 
righteous,  he  hides  him  from  the fcourge  of  the  tongue, 
he  makes  him  laugh  at  dejlrutlion  and  famine,  he 
brings  the  [tones  of  the  field  into  league  -with  him,  and 
_  makes  the  brute  animals  enter  into  a  covenant  of  peace, 
Job  v.'ar.  &c.  When  Job  fpeaks  of  the  grave,  how 
melancholy  is  the  gloom  that  he  fpreads  over  it!  It 
is  a  region  to  which  1  muft  fhortly  go,  and  -whence  I 
Jhall  not  return  ;  it  is  a  land  of  darkncfs,  it  is  darknefs 
itfelf,  the  land  of  thejhadovr  of  death ;  all  confufion 
and  diforder,  and  -where  the  light  is  as  darknefs.  This  is 
my  houfe,  there  have  I  made  my  bed:  I  have  f aid  to  cor- 
ruption, ihou  art  my  father,  and  to  the  -worm,  thou  art 
my  mother  and  my  fifter  :  as  for  my  hope,  -who  Jhall  fee 
it?  I  and  my  hope  go  do-wn  together  to  the  bars  of  the 
pit,  Job  x.  ai.  and  xviii.  13.  When  he  humbles 
himfelf  in  complainings  before  the  almightinefs  of 
GOD,  what  contemptible  and  feeble  images  doth  he 
ufe!  Wilt  thou  break  a  leaf  driven  to  and-  frof  -wilt 
thou  purfue  the  dry  Jlubble  ?  Jconfume  a-way  like  a-  rotten 
thing,  a  garment  eaten  by  the  moth,  Job  xiii.  2-J.  &c. 
Thou  lifteft  me  up  to  the  -wind,  thou  caujeft  me  to  ride 
upon  it,  and  dijfolveft  my  fubftance,  Job  xxiii.  iz.  Can 
any  man  invent  more  defpicable  ideas  to  reprefent 
the  fcoundrel  herd  and  refufe  of  mankind,  than  thofe 
which  Job  ufes  ?  chap.  xxx.  and  thereby  he  aggra- 
vates his  own  forrows  and  reproaches  to  amaze- 
ment .  They  thai  are  younger  than  I  have  me  in  derifion, 
-whofe  fathers  1  -would  have  difdained  to  have fet  with  the 
dogs  of  my  flock  ;'  for  -want  and  famine  they  -were  fo  lit a- 
ry  ;  fleeing  Anto  the  -wilder nefs  deflate  and  -wafte :  they 
cut  up  mallo-ws  by  the  bujhes,  and  juniper  roots  for  their 
meat:  they  -were  driven  forth  from  among  men,  (they 
cried  after  them  as  after  a  thief  J  to  dwell  in  the  cliffs  of 

the 


via        The     PREFACE. 

the  vallies,  in  caves  of  the  earth,  and  in  rocks:  among 
the  bujhes  they  brayed,  under  the  nettles  they  ivere  ga- 
thered together  ;  they  -were  children  of  fools,  yea,  chil- 
dren ofbafe  men  ;  they  -were  viler  than  the  earth :  and 
now  I  am  their  fong,  yea,  I  am  their  by-word,  &c. 
How  mournful  and  dejected  is  the  language  of  his 
ownforrows!  terrors  are  turned  upon  him,  they  pur- 
Jue  his  foul  as  the  wind,  and  his  welfare  pajfes  away 
as  a  cloud  ; .  his  bones  are  pierced  within  h'un,  and  his 
foul  is  poured  out  ;  he  goes  mourning  without  the  fun,  a 
brother  to  dragons,  and  a  companion  to  owls ;  while  his 
harp  and  organ,  are  turned  into  the  voice  of  them  that, 
weep.  I  mult  tranfcribe  one  half  of  this  book,  if  I 
would  fhew  the  grandeur,  the  variety,  and  the  juft- 
nefs  of  his  ideas,  or  the  pomp  and  beauty  of  his  ex- 
preflion  :  J  mufl  copy  out  a  good  part  of  the  writ- 
ings of  David  and  Isaiah,  if  I  would  reprefent  the 
poetical  excellencies  of  their  thoughts  and  ftih  ;  nor 
is  the  language  of  the  lefTer  prophets,  efpecially  in 
fome  paragraphs,   much  inferior  to  thefe. 

Now  while  they  paint  human  nature  in  its  various 
forms  and  circumftances,  if  their  defigning  be  Co  juft 
and  noble,  their  difpofition  fo  artful,  and  their  co- 
louring Co  bright  bey  nd  the  mod  famed  human 
writers,  how  much  more  muft  their  defcriptions  of 
God  and  heaven  exceed  all  that  is  poffible  to  be  faid 
by  a  meaner  tongue?  When  they  fpeak  of  the  dwel- 
ling-place of  God,  He  inhabits  eternity,  and  fits 
upon  the  throne  of  his  holinefs,  in  the  midft  of  light 
inaccefllble.  When  his  holinefs  is  mentioned,  The 
heavens  are  not  clean  in  his  fight,  he  charges  his 
angels  with  folly :  he  looks  to  the  moon  and  it  Ihin- 
eth  not,  and  the  ftars  are  not  pure  before  his  eyes: 
he  is  a  jealous  God,  and  a  consuming  fire.  If  we 
fpeak  of  frrength,  Behold  he  is  ftrong,  he  removes 
the  mountains,  and  they  Know  it  not,  he  overturns 

them 


The     P  n  E  F  A  C  E.  ix 

them  in  his  anger:  he  fliakes  the  earth  from  her 
place,  and  her  pillars  tremble:  he  makes  -a  path 
through  the  mighty  waters,  he  difcovers  the  foun- 
dations of  the  world  :  the  pillars  of  heaven  are  ado- 
nifhed  at  his  reproof.  And  after  all,  Thefearebut 
a  portion  of  his  ways :  the  thunder  of  his  power 
-who  can  underftand?  His  fovereignty,  his  know- 
ledge and  his  wifdom  are  revealed  to  us  in  language 
vadly  fuperior  to  all  the  poetical  accounts  of  heathen 
divinity.  Let  the  potfherds  drive  with  the  potlherds 
of  the  earth;  but  mall  the  clay  fay  tohim  that  fa- 
fhioneth  it,  What  maked  thou  ?  He  bids  the  hea- 
vens drop  down  from  above,  and  let  the  ikies  pour 
down  righteoufnefs.  He  commands  the  fun,  and  it 
rifeth  not,  and  he  fealeth  up  the  dars.  It  is  he  that 
faith  to  the  deep,  Be  dry,  and  he  drieth  up  the  ri- 
vers. Woe  to  them  that  feek  deep  to  hide  their 
counfel  from  the  Lord;  his  eyes  are  upon  all  their 
ways,  he  underftands  their  thoughts  afar  off.  Hell 
is  naked  before  him,  and  deitruclion  hath  no  cover- 
ing. He  calls  out  all  the  dars  by  their  names,  he 
frudrateth  the  tokens  of  the  liars,  and  makes  the 
diviners  mad;  he  turns  wife  men  backward,  and 
their  knowledge  becomes  fooliih.  His  tranfcendant 
eminence  above  all  things  is  mod  nobly  reprefented 
when  he  fits  upon  the  circle  of  the  earth,  and  the 
inhabitants  thereof  are  as  grafhoppers:  all  nations 
before  him  are  as  the  drop  of  a  bucket,  and  as  the 
fmall  dud  of  the  balance  :  he  takes  up  the  ides  as  a 
very  little  thing;  Lebanon  with  all  her  beads,  is  not 
diffident  for  a  faerifice  to  this  God,  nor  are  all  her 
trees  fucEcient  for  the  burning.  This  God  before  -whom 
the  whole  creation  is  as  nothing,  yea,  lefs  than  no- 
thing and  vanity.  To  which  of  all  the  heathen  gods 
then  will  ye  compare  me,  faith  the  Lord,  and  what 
iliail  1  be  likened  to  }  And  to  which  of  all  the  hea- 
then. 


x  The     P  R  E F  A  C  E. 

then  poets  fhall  we  liken  or  compare  this  glorious 
orator,  this  facred  defcriber  of  the  godhead?  The 
orators  of  all  nations  are  as  nothing  before  him,  and 
their  words  are  vanity  and  emptinefs.  Let  us  turn 
our  eyes  now  to  fome  of  the  holy  writings,  where 
God  is  creating  the  world:  how  meanly  do  the  bell 
of  the  Gentiles  talk  and  trifle  upon  this  fubjetl,  when 
brought  into  comparifon  with  Moses,  whom  Lon- 
ginus  himfelf,  a  Gentile  critic,  cites  as  a  matter  of 
the  fublime  ftile,  when  he  chofe  to  ufe  it;  And  the 
Lord  faid,  Let  there  be  light,  and  there  was  light; 
let  there  be  clouds  and  feas,  fun  and  (tars,  plants, 
and  animals,  and  behold  they  are:  he  commanded \ 
and  they  appear  and  obey  :  By  the  word  of  the  Lord 
were  the  heavens  made,  and  all  the  hoft  of  them  by 
the  breath  of  his  mouth  :  this  is  working  like  a 
GOD,  with  infinite  eafe  and  omnipotence.  His 
wonders  of  providence  for  the  terror  and  ruin  of  his 
adverfaries,  and  for  the  fuccour  of  his  faints,  is  fet 
before  our  eyes  in  the  fcripture  with  equal  magnifi- 
cence, and  as  becomes  divinity.  When  he  arifes  out 
of  his  place,  the  earth  trembles,  the  foundations  of 
the  hills  are  fhaken  becaufe  he  is  wroth  :  there  goes 
a  fmoak  up  out  of  his  noftrils,  and  fire  out  of  his 
mouth  devourcth,  coals  are  kindled  by  it.  He  bows 
the  heavens  and  comes  down,  and  darknefs  is  under 
his  feet.  The  mountains  melt  like  wax,  and  flow 
down  at  his  prefence.  If  Virgil,  Homer,  or  Pin- 
dar were  to  prepare  an  equipage  for  a  defcending 
god,  they  might  ufe  thunder  and  lightnings  too,  and 
clouds  and  fire,  to  form  a  chariot  and  horfes  for  the 
battle  or  the  triumph.  But  there  is  none  of  them 
provides  him  a  flight  of  cherubs  infiead  of  horfes,  or 
feats  him  in  chariots  offalvation.  David  beholds  him 
riding  upon  the  heaven  of  heavens,  by  his  name 
J  AH :  he  was  mounted  upon  a  cherub  and  did  fly, 

ha 


The     PREFACE.  xi 

he  flew  on  wings  of  the  wind;  and  Habbaiotk.  fends 
the  peflilence  before  him.  Homer  keeps  a  mighty 
ftir  with  his  Nephelegereta  Zous,  and  Hesiod  with 
his  Zous  hupfibremete.  Jupiter  that  raifes  up  the 
clouds,  and  that  makes  a  noife  or  thunders  on  high. 
Eut  a  divine  poet  makes  the  clouds  but  the  duft  of 
his  feet,  and  when  the  Higheft  gives  his  voice  in  the 
heavens,  hailftones  and  coals  of  fire  follow.  A  di- 
•vine  poet  difcovers  the  channels  of  the  waters,  and 
lays  open  the  foundations  of  nature;  at  thy  rebuke, 
O  Lord,  at  the  blaft  of  the  breath  of  thy  noflrils. 
When  the  HOLY  ONE  alighted  upon  mount  Sinai,  his 
glory  covered  the  heavens:  he  flood  and  meafured 
the  earth;  he  beheld  and  drove  afunder  the  nations, 
and  the  everlafHng  mountains  were  fcattered;  the 
perpetual  hills  did  bow;  his  ways  are  everlafHng. 
Then  the  prophet faw  the  tents  of  Cujhan  in  affliction, 
and  the  curtains  of  the  land  of  Midian  did  tremble, 
Hab.  iii.  Nor  did  the  blefTed  fpirit  which  animated 
thefe  writers,  forbid  them  the  ufeof  vifions,  dreams, 
the  opening  of  fcenes  dreadful  and  delightful,  and 
the  introduction  of  machines  upon  great  occasions  : 
the  divine  licence  in  this  refpecl,  is  admirable  and 
furprizing,  and  the  images  are  often  too  bold  and 
dangerous  for  an  uninfpired  writer  to  imitate.  Mr. 
Dennis  has  made  a  noble  eflay  to  difcover  how 
much  fuperior  is  infpired  poefy  to  the  brighter!  and 
heft,  defcriptions  of  a  mortal  pen.  Perhaps  if  his 
propofal  of  criticifm  had  been  encouraged  and  pur- 
fued,  the  nation  might  have  learnt  more  value  for 
the  word  of  GOD,  and  the  wits  of  the  age  might 
have  been  fecured  from  the  danger  of  deifm;  while 
they  mull  have  been  forced  to  confefs  at  lead  the 
divinity  of  all  the  poetical  books  of  fcripture,  when 
they  fee  a  genius  running  through  them  more  than 
human. 

Who 


xii         The     PREFACE. 

Who  is  there  now  will  dare  to  afTert,  that  the  doc- 
trines of  our  holy  faith  will  not  indulge  or  endure  a 
delightful  drefs  ?  fhall  the  *  French  poet  affright  us 
by  faying, 

De  lafoy  d'un  chretten  les  myjieres  terribles 
D'  ornemens  egayez  nefont  point  fufceptibles  ? 
But  the  f  French  critick,  in  his  reflections  upon 
eloquence,  tells  us,  "  that  the  majefty  of  our  reli- 
gion the  holinefs  of  its  laws,  the  purity  of  its 
morals  the  height  of  its  myfteries,  and  the  im- 
portance of  every  fubjecl  that  belongs  to  it,  re- 
quires a  grandeur,  a  noblenefs,  a  majefty,  and 
elevation  of  ftile  fuited  to  the  theme:  fparkling 
images  and  magnificent  expreffions  muft  be  ufed, 
and  are  befl  borrowed  from  fcripture :  let  the 
preacher  that  aims  at  eloquence,  read  the  pro- 
phets incefTantly,  for  their  writings  are  an  abun- 
dant fource  of  all  the  riches  and  ornaments  of 
fpeech."  And  in  my  opinion,  this  is  far  better 
council  than  Horace  gives  us,  when  he  fays, 

Vos  exemplar ia  Grxca  , 

NoBurna  verfate  manu,  verfate  diurna. 
As  in  the  conduct  of  my  ftudies  with  regard  to  di- 
vinity, I  have  reafon  to  repent  of  nothing  more  than 
that  I  have  not  perufed  the  Bible  with  more  fre- 
quency; fo  if  I  were  to  fet  up  for  a  poet,  with  a  de- 
fign  to  exceed  all  the  modern  writers,  I  would  fol- 
low the  advice  of  Rapin,  and  read  the  prophets 
night  and  day.  I  am  fure  the  compofures  of  the 
following  book  would  have  been  filled  with  much 
greater  fenfe,  and  appeared  with  much  more  agreea- 
ble ornaments,  had  I  derived  a  larger  portion  from 
the  holy  fcriptures. 

Befides,  we  may  fetch  a  further   anfwer  to  Mr. 

Boileau's 

*  Bo'rieau.  f  Rafvu 


The     PREFACE,        xiii 

Boileau's  objection,  from  other  poets  of  his  own 
country.  What  a  noble  ufe  have  Racine  and  Cor.- 
neille  made  of  chriftian  fubjecfs  in  fome  of  their 
bed  tragedies?  what  a  variety  of  divine  fcenes  are 
difplayed,  and  pious  paMions  awakened  in  thofe 
poems  ?  the  martyrdom  of  Polyeucte,  how  doth 
it  reign  over  our  love  and  pity,  and  at  the  fame  time 
animate  our  zeal  and  devotion !  may  I  here  be  per- 
mitted the  liberty  to  return  my  thanks  to  that  fair 
and  ingenious  hand  §  that  directed  me  to  fuch  en- 
tertainments in  a  foreign  language,  which  1  had  long 
wifhed  for,  and  fought  in  vain  in  our  own.  Yet  I 
mud  confefs,  that  the  Davideis  and  the  two  Ar- 
thurs have  fo  far  anfwered  Boileau's  objection  in 
Englijh,  as  that  the  obftacles  of  attempting  chri- 
ftian poefy  are  broken  down,  and  the  vain  pretenceof 
its  being  impracticable  is  experimentally  confuted.  * 
It  is  true  indeed,  the  chriftian  myfteries  have  not 
fuch  need  of  gay  trappings  as  beautified,  or  r3ther 
compofed  the  heathen  fuperftition.  But  this  (till 
makes  for  the  greater  eafe  and  furer  fuccefs  of"  the 
poet.  The  wonders  of  our  religion  in  a  plain  nar- 
ration and  a  fimple  drefs,  have  a  native  grandeur,  a 
dignity,  and  a  beauty  in  them,  tho'  they  do  not 
utterly  difdain  all  methods  of  ornament.  The  book 
of  the  Revelations  feems  to  be  a  prophecy  in  the  form 
of  an  opera  or  a  dramatic  poem,  where  divine  art  il- 
lustrates the  fubjeft  with  many  charming  glories; 
B  but 


§   Philomela. 

*  Sir  Richard  Blackmore,  in  his  admirable  preface 
tf>  his  laft  poem  entitled ,  Alfred,  has  more  copioujlr  re- 
futed all  Boileau's  arguments  on  this  fubjetr,  and  that 
ivith great  jufiice  and  elegance,  1733.  I  am  perfuaded 
that  many  perfons  -who  defpife  the  poem  would  acknow- 
ledge the  jujl  fentiments  of  that  preface. 


xiv        The     PREFACE. 

but  ftill  it  mud  be  acknowledged,  that  the  naked 
themes  of  chriftianity  have  fomething  blighter  aad 
bolder  in  them,  fomething  more  fur-prizing  and  ce- 
leftial  than  all  the  adventures  of  Gods  and  heroes, 
all  the  dazling  images  of  falfe  luftre  that  form  and 
garni  (h  a  heathen  fong :  here  the  very  argument 
would  give  wonderful  aids  to  the  mule,  and  the 
heavenly  theme  would  fo  relieve  a  dull  hour,  and  a 
languifhing  genius,  that  when  the  mufe  nods,  the 
fenfe  would  burn  and  fparkle  upon  the  reader,  and 
keep  him  feelingly  awake. 

With  how  much  lefs  toil  and  expence  might  a 
Dryden;  an  Otway,  a  Congreve,  or  a  Dennis 
furnifh  out  a  chriftian  poem,  than  a  modern  play? 
there  is  nothing  amongft  all  the  ancient  fables,  or 
later  romances,  that  have  twofuch  extremes  united 
in  them,  as  the  eternal  GOD  becoming  an  infant 
of  days;  the  poflefTor  of  the  palace  of  heaven,  laid 
to  deep  in  a  manger,  the  Holy  JESUS,  who  knew 
no  fin,  bearing  the  fins  of  men  in  his  body  on  the 
tree:  agonies  of  forrow  loading  the  foul  of  him 
who  was  GOD  over  all  blefied  for  ever;  and  the  fo- 
vereign  of  life  frretching  his  arms  on  a  crofs,  bleed- 
ing and  expiring:  the  heaven  and  the  hell  in  our 
divinity  are  infinitely  more  delightful  and  dreadful 
than  the  childifli  figments  of  a  dog  with  three  heads, 
the  buckets  of  the  Betides,  the  furies  with  fnaky 
hairs,  or  all  the  flowry  itories  of  Elyjiam.  And  if 
we  furveytheone  as  themes  divinely  true,  and  the 
other  as  a  medley  of  fooleries  which  we  can  never 
believe,  the  advantage  for  touching  the  fprings  of 
paffion  will  fall  infinitely  on  the  fide  of  the  christian 
poet;  our  wonder  and  our  love,  our  pity,  delight, 
and  forrow,  with  the  long  train  of  hopes  and  fears, 
mutl  needs  be  under  the  command  of  an  harmoni- 
ous pen,  whole  every  line  makes  a  part  of  the  read- 
er's 


The     PREFACE.         xv 

er's  faith,  and  is  the  very  life  or  death  of  his  foul. 
If  the  trifling  and  incredible  tales  that  furnilh  out 
a  tragedy,  are  fo  armed  by  wit  and  fancy,  as  to  be- 
come fovereign  of  the  rational  powers,  to  triumph 
over  all  the  affections,  and  manage  our  fmiies  and 
our  tears  at  pleafure;  how  wondrous  a  conqueffc 
might  be  obtained  over  a  wide  world,  and  reduce  it 
at  leafl:  to  fobriety,  if  the  fame  happy  ta!ent  was 
employed  in  dreffing  the  fcenes  of  religion  in  their 
proper  figures  of  majefty,  fweetnefs  and  terror?  the 
wonders  of  creating  power,  of  redeeming  love,  and 
renewing  grace  ought  not  to  be  thus  impioufly  ne- 
glected by  thofe  whom  heaven  has  endued  with  a 
gift  fo  proper  to  adorn  and  cultivate  them ;  an  art 
whofe  fweet  infinuations  might  almofl  convey  piety 
in  refilling  nature,  and  melt  the  hardefl  fouls  to  the 
love  of  virtue.  The  affairs  of  this  life,  with  their 
reference  to  a  life  to  come,  would  dune  bright  in  a 
dramatic  defcription  ;  nor  is  there  any  need  or  any 
reafon  why  we  mould  always  borrow  the  plan  or 
hiflory  from  the  ancient  Jews  or  primitive  martyrs; 
though  feveralof  thefe  would  furnifh  out  noble  ma- 
terials for  this  fort  of  poeiy ;  but  modern  fcenes 
would  be  better  underftood  by  mofi  readers,  and  the 
application  would  be  much  more  eafy.  The  angui/h 
of  inward  guilt,  the  fecret  flings  and  racks  and 
fcourges  of  conscience,  the  fweet  retiring  hours,  and 
feraphicaljoys  of  devotion,  the  victory  of  a  refolved 
foul  over  a  thoufand  temptations;  the  inimitable 
love  and  paffion  of  a  dying  GOD,  the  awful  glories 
of  the  laft  tribunal,  the  grand  decifive  fen  ten  ce  from 
which  there  is  no  appeal,  and  the  confequent  trans- 
ports or  horrors  of  the  two  eternal  worlds,  thefe 
things  may  be  varioufiy  difpofed,  and  form  many 
poems.  How  might  iuclv  performances,  under  a 
divine  bkfung,  call  back  the  dying  piety  of  the  na- 
B.  a.  tiorx 


XVI 


The     PREFACE. 


tion  to  life  and  beauty  ?  this  would  make  religion 
appear  like  itfelf  and  confound  the  blafphemies  of  a 
profligate  world,   ignorant  of  pious  pleafures. 

But  we  have  reafbn  to  fear,  that,  the  tuneful  men 
ofourday,  have  not  raifed  their  ambition  to  fo  di- 
vine a  pitch  ;  1  fhould  rejoice  to  fee  more  of  this  ce- 
ieflial  fire  kindling  within  them,  for  the  flalhes  that 
break  out  in  iome  prefentand  part  writings,  betray 
an  infernal  fource.  This  the  incomparable  Mr. 
Cowley,  in  the  latter  end  of  his  preface,  and  the 
ingenious  Sir 'Richard  Blacicmore,  in  the  begin- 
ning of  his,  have  fo  pathetically  defcrib'd  and  la- 
mented; that  I  rather  refer  the  reader  to  mourn 
with  them,  than  detain  and  tire  him  here.  Thefe 
gentlemen,  in  their  large  and  labour'd  works  of 
poefy,  have  given  the  world  happy  examples  of  what 
they  wifh  and  encourage  in  profe;  the  one  in  a  rich 
variety  of  thought  and  fancy;  the  other  in  all  the 
Alining  colours  of  profufe  and  florid  diction. 

If  fhorter  fonnets  were  compoied  on  fublime  fub- 
jects,  fiieh  as  the  Pfolms  of  David,  and  the  holy 
tranfports  interfpeifed  in  the  other  facred  writings, 
or  fuch  as  the  moral  Odes  of  Horace,  and  the  an- 
cient Lyricks;  I  perfuade  myfelf  that  the  Chr'ijlian 
preacher  would  find  abundant  aid  from  the  poet,  iri 
his  defign  to  diffufe  virtue,  and  allure  fouls  to  God. 
If  the  heart  were  firfl  inflamed  from  heaven,  and 
the  mufe  were  not  left  alone  to  form  the  devotion, 
a^d  purfue  a  cold  fcent,  but  only  called  in  as  an 
afiiirant  to  the  worihip,  then  the  fong  would  end 
where  the  infpiration  ceafes;  the  whole  cornpefure 
would  be  of  a  piece,  all  meridian  light  and  meridian 
fervour;  and  the  fame  pious  flame  would  be  propa- 
gated and  kept  glowing  in  the  heart  of  him  that 
reads.  Some  of  the  fhorter  odes  cf  the  two  poets 
now  mentioned,  and  a  few  of  the  Reverend   Mr. 

NORRIS'S 


The     PREFACE,        xv£i 

Norris's  EfTays  in  verfe,  are  convincing  inftance-s 
of  the  fuccefs  of  this  propofaL 

It  is  my  opinion  alio,  that  the  free  and  unconfined 
numbers  of  Pindar,  or  the  noble  meafures  of  Mil- 
ton without  rhyme,  would  beft  maintain  the  dig- 
nity of  the  theme,  as  well  as  give  a  loofe  to  the  de- 
vout foul,  nor  check  the  raptures  of  her  faith  and 
love.  Though  in  my  feeble  attempts  of  this  kind  I 
have  too  often  fettered  my  thoughts  in  the  narrow 
metre  of  our  pfalm-,tranflators;  I  have  contracted 
and  cramped  the  fenfe,  Or  rendered  it  obfcure  and 
feeble,  by  the  too  fpeedy  and  regular  returns  of 
rhyme. 

If  my  friends  expe£t  any  reafon  of  the  following 
compofures,  and  of  the  firft  or  fecond  publication, 
I  entreat  them  to  accept  of  this  account. 

The  title  allures  them  that  poefy  is  not  the  bufi- 
nefs  of  my  life;  and  if  I  feized  thofe  hours  of  leifure 
wherein  my  foul  was  in  a  more  fprightly  frame,  to 
entertain  them  or  myfelf  with  a  divine  or  moral 
fong,  I  hope  1  (hall  find  an  eafy  pardon. 
.  In  the  firji  bdok  are  many  odes  which  were  written 
to  affift  the  meditations  and  worfhip  of  vulgar  chrif- 
tians,  and  with  a  defign  to  be  publifhed  in  the  vo- 
lume of  Hymns  which  have  now  paffed  a  fecond  im- 
preffion;  but  updn  the  review,  J  found  fome  ex- 
preffions  that  were  notfuited  to  the  plain  eft  capa- 
city, and  the  metaphors  are  too  bold  to  pieafe  the 
weaker  ehriftian,  therefore  I  have  allotted  them  a 
place  here. 

Amongft  the  fongs  that  are  dedicated  to  divine  love 
I  think  I  may  be  bold  to  aflert,  that  I  never  com- 
pofed  one  line  of  them  with  any  other  defign,  than 
what  they  are  applied  to  here;  and  I  have  endea- 
voured to  fecure  them  all  from  being  perverted  and 
debafed  to  wanton  paffions,  by  feveral  lines  in  therm 
B  3  that 


xvlii      The     P   R'E  F  A  C  E. 

that  can  never  be  applied  to  a  meaner  love.  Are 
not  the  nobleft  instances  of  the  grace  of  Chrift  re- 
prefented  under  the  figure  of  a  conjugal  ftate,  and 
defcribed  in  one  of  the  fweeteft  odes,  and  the  fofteft 
paftoral  that  ever  was  written;  I  appeal  to  Solo- 
mon,* in  his  long,  and  his  father  David,  in  Vfah 
xlv.  if  Davjd  was  the  authur:  and  I  am  well  af- 
fured  that  I  have  never  indulged  an  equal  licence: 
it  was  dangerous  to  imitate  the  facred  writers  too 
nearly  in  fo  nice  an  affair. 

The  Poe?r.s  facrcd  to  Virtue,  &c.  were  formed  when 
the  frame  and  humour  of  my  foul  was  juft  fuited  to 
the  fubjeel  of  my  verfe  :  the  image  of  my  heart  is 
painted  in  them;  and  if  they  meet  with  a  reader, 
whofe  foul  is  akin  to  mine,  perhaps  they  may  agree- 
ably entertain  him.  The  dulnefs  of  the  fancy,  and 
cjarfenefs  of  exprtffion  will  difappear;  thefamenefs 
of  the  1-umour  will  create  a  pleafure,  and  infenfibly 
overcome  and  conceal  the  defects  of  the  mufe. 
Youn?  gentlemen  and  ladies,  wbofe  genius  and 
cducat:on  have  given  them  a  relifn  of  oratory  and 
\<rrfe,  may  be  tempted  to  feek  fatisfaclion  among 
the  dangerous  diversions  of  the  ftage,  and  impure 
fonnets,  if  there  be  no  provifion  of  a  fafer  kind 
made  to  pleafe  them.  While  I  have  attempted  to 
gratify  innocent  fancy  in  this  refpect,  I  have  not 
forgotten  to  allure  the  heart  to  virtue,  and  to  raife 
it  to  a  difdain  of  brutal  pleafures.  The  frequent 
interpofition  of  a  devout  thought  may  awaken  the 
mind  to  a  ferious  fenfe  of  GOD,  religion,  and  eter- 
nity. The  fame  duty  that  might  be  defpifed  in  a 
fcrmon,  when  propofed  to  their  reafon,  may  here 

perhaps 

*  Solomon's  Song  was  much  more  in  ufe  among 
preachers  and  -writers  of  divinity  -when  the/e  poems  ivere 
writter.  than  it  is  new.     J  750. 


The     PREFACE.        xix 

perhaps  feize  the  lower  faculties  with  furprize,  de- 
light and  devotion  at  once;  and  thus  by  degrees 
draw  the  fuperior  powers  of  the  mind  to  piety.  A- 
mongft  the  infinite  numbers  of  mankind,  there  is 
not  more  difference  in  their  outward  fhape  and  fea=- 
tures,  than  in  their  temper  and  inward  inclination. 
Some  are  more  eafily  fufceptive  of  religion  in  a  grave 
diicourfe  and  fedate  reafoning.  Some  are  be  ft 
frighted  from  fin  and  ruin  by  terror,  threatening 
and  amazement;  their  fear  is  the  propereft  paflion 
to  which  we  can  addrefs  ourfelves,  and  begin  the 
divine  work  ;  others  can  feel  no  motive  fo  powerful 
as  that  which  applies  itfelf  to  their  ingenuity,  and 
their  polifhed  imagination.  Now  I  thought  it  law- 
ful to  take  hold  of  any  handle  of  the  foul,  to  lead  it 
away  betimes  from  vicious  pleafures  ;  and  if  I  could 
but  make  up  a  compofition  of  vertue  and  delight, 
fuited  to  the  tafte  of  well-bred  youth,  and  a  refined 
education,  I-had  fome  hope  to  allure  and  raife  them 
thereby  above  the  vile  temptations  of  degenerate 
nature,  and  cuftom,  that  is  yet  more  degenerate.. 
When  I  hare  felt  a  flight  inclination  to  fatyr  or  bur- 
lefque,  I  thought  it  proper  to  fupprefs  it.  The 
grinning  and  the  growling  mufe  are  not  hard  to  be 
obtained;  but  I  would  difdain  their  affiftance,  where 
a  manly  invitation  to  vertue,  and  a  friendly  fmile 
may  be  fuccefsfully  employed.  Could  I  perfuade 
any  man  by  a  kinder  method,  I  mould  never  think 
it  proper  to  fcold  or  laugh  at  him. 

Perhaps  there  are  fome  morofe  readers,  that  ftand 
ready  to  condemn  every  line  that's  written  upon  the 
theme  of  love;  but  have  we  not  the  cares  and  the 
felicities  of  that  fort  of  focial  life  reprefented  to  us 
in  the  facred  writings?  Some  expreffions  are  there 
ufed  with  a  defign  to  give  a  .mortifying  influence  to 
our  fofteft  affe&ions ;  others  again  brighten  the  cha- 
rade r. 


xx  The     P  R  E  F  \i  C  E. 

rafter  of  that  (rate,  and  allure  virtuous  foul?  to  pur- 
sue the  divine  advantage  of  it,  the  mutual  alTiftance 
in  the  way  to  falvation.  Are  not  the  cxxvii  and 
cxxvm  pfalms  indited  on  this  very  fubject  ?  Shall  it 
be  lawful  for  the  prefs  and  the  pulpit  to  treat  of  it 
with  a  becoming  folemnky  in  profe,  and  muft  the 
mention  of  the  fame  thing  in  poefy  be  pronounced 
for  ever  unlawful?  Is  it  utterly  unworthy  of  a  feri- 
ous  character  to  wiite  on  this  argument,  becaufe  it 
has  been  unhappily  polluted  by  fome  fcurrilous  pens? 
Why  may  I  not  be  permitted  to  obviate  a  common 
and  a  growing  mifchief,  while  a  thoufand  vile  poems 
of  the  amorous  kind  fwarm  abroad,  and  give  a  vici- 
ous taint  to  the  unwary  reader?  I  would  tell  the 
world  that  I  have  endeavoured  to  recover  this  argu- 
ment out  of  the  hands  of  impure  writers,  anrl  to 
make  it  appear,  that  virtue  and  love  are  not  fuch 
flrangers  as  they  are  repreiented.  The  blifsful  inti- 
macy of  fouls  in  that  ftate  will  afford  fufficient  fur^ 
niture  for  the  graved  entertainment  in  verfe;  fo 
that  it  need  not  be  everlaftingly  dreffedup  in  ridi^ 
cule  nor  ailumed  only  to  furnifh  out  the  leud  fon- 
nets  of;  the  times.  May  fome  happier  genius  pro- 
mote the  fame  fervice  that  I  propofed,  and  by  fupe- 
rior  fenfe,  and  fweeter  found,  render  wl  at  I  have 
written  contemptible  and  ufelefs. 
The  Imitations  of  that  nobleit  Latin  poet  of  modern 
ages,  Casimire  Sarbiewski  of  Poland,  would  need 
no  excufe,  did  they  but  arife  to  the  beauty  of  the 
original.  I  have  often  taken  the  freedom  to  add  ten 
or  twenty  lines,  or  to  leave  out  as  many,  that  I 
might  iiit  my  fong  more  to  my  own  defign,  or  be- 
caufe I  faw  it  impoilible  to  prefent  the  force,  the 
finenefs  and  the  fire  of  his  expreffion  in  our  language. 
Thereare  a  few  copies  wherein  Iborrow'd  fome  hints 
from  the  fame  author,  without  the  mention  of  his 

name 


The     PREFACE,        xxi 

name  in  the  title.  Methinks  I  can  allow  fa  fuperi- 
or  a  genius  now  and  then  to  be  lavifh  in  his  imagin- 
ation, and  to  indulge  ibme  excurfions  beyond  the 
limits  of  fedate  judgment ;  The  riches  and  glory  of 
his  verfe  make  attonement  m  abundance.  I  with 
fome  Englijh  pen  would  import  more  of  his  trea- 
sures, and  blefs  our  nation. 

The  infcriptiom  to  particular  friends,  are  warrant- 
ed and  defended  by  the  practice  of  almoft  ait"  the 
Lyric  writers.  They  frequently  convey  the  rigid 
rules  of  morality  to  the  mind  in  the  fofter  method 
of.  applaufe.  Suftain'd  by  their  example,  a  man 
will  liot-eaiily  be  overwhelmed  by  the  heavieft  cen- 
fures  of  the  unthinking  and  unknowing;  efpeciaily 
when  there  is  a  lhadow  of  this  practice  in  the  divine 
pfalmijl,  while  be  inscribes  to  Asaph  orjEDUTHUN 
his  longs,  that  were  made  for  the  harp,  or  (which 
is  all  one)  his  Lyric  odes,  tho'  they  are  addreiVd  to 
GOD  himielf. 

In  the  poems  of  heroic  mecjure,  I  have  attempted 
in  rhime  the  fame  variety  of  cadence,  comma  and 
period,  which  blank  verfe  glories  in  as  its  peculiar 
elegance  and  ornament.  It  degrades  the  excellency 
of  the  belt  verification  when  the  lines  run  on  by 
couplets,  twenty  together,  juft  in  the  fame  pace, 
and  with  the  fame  paufes.  It  fpoils  the  nobleft 
pleafure  of  the  found:  the  reader  is  tired  with  the 
tedious  uniformity,  or  charm'd  to  .fleep  with  the 
unmanly  foftnefs  of  the  numbers,  and  the  perpe- 
tual chime  of  even  cadences. 

In  the  e/Jliys  without  rhime,  I  have  not  fet  up  Mil- 
ton for  a  perfect  pattern;  tho'  he  ihall  be  forever 
honour  d  as  our  deliverer  from  the  bondage.  His 
works  contain  admirable  and  unequall'd  in  fiances  of 
bright  and  beautiful  diction,  as  well  as  majefty  and 
ferenenefs -of  thought.     There  are  feveral  epifodes 

in 


xxii       The      PREFACE. 

in  his  longer  works,  that  (land  in  fnpreme  dignity 
■without  a  rival;  yet  all  that  vaft  reverence  with 
which  1  read  his  paradiJJe  lofi,  cannot  perfuade  me 
to  be  charm'd  with  every  page  of  it.  The  length  of 
his  periods,  and  Sometimes  of  his  parenthefes,  runs 
me  cut  Of  breath:  fome  of  his  numbers  feem  too 
harfh  and  uneafy.  1  could  never  believe  that  rough- 
rsefs  and  obfcurity  added  any  thing  to  the  true  gran- 
deur of  a  poem:  nor  will  1  ever  affect  archaifms, 
exoticifms,  and  a  quaint  uncouthnefs  of  fpeech,  in 
order  to  become  perfectly  MUtonian.  'Tis  my  opini- 
on that  blank  verfe  may  be  written  with  all  due  ele- 
vation of  thought  in  a  modern  ftile,  without  bor- 
rowing any  thing  from  Chaucer's  tales,  or  running 
back  fo  far  as  the  days  of  Colin  the  Jhepherd,  and 
the  reign  of  the  Fairy  ^ueen.  The  oddnefs  of  aa 
antique  found  gives  but  a  falfe  pleafure  to  the  ear, 
and  abufes  the  true  reiifh,  even  when  it  works  de- 
light. There  were  fome  Such  judges  of  poefy  among 
the  old  Romans,  and  Martial  ingeniously  laughs 
at  one  of  them,  that  was  pleafed  even  to  aftonilh* 
ment  with  obSblete  words  and  figures. 

Attonltiifqtie  legis  terrai  frugiferai. 

So  the  ill-drawn  poftures  and  distortions  of  Shape 
that  we  meet  with  in  Chinefe  pictures,  charm  a  Sick- 
ly  fancy  by  their  very  awkwardnefs;  fo  a  didem- 
per'd  appetite  will  chew  coals  and  fand  and  pro- 
nounce it  guftful. 

In  the  pindarics  T  have  generally  confprm'd  my 
lines  to  the  Ihorter  fize  of  the  ancients,  and  avoided 
to  imitate  the  exctffive  lengths  to  which  fome  mo- 
dern writers  have  Stretch'd  their  Sentences,  and  ef- 
pecially  the  concluding  verfe.  In  thefe  the  ear  is- 
the  truefl  judge;  nor  was  it  made  to  be  enllaved  to 
any  precife  model  of  elder  or  later  times. 

After  all,  I  muft  petition  my  reader  to  lay  afids 

the 


The     PREFACE,      xxiii 

the  four  and  fullen  air  of  criticifm,  and  to  afTume 
the  friend.  Let  him  chufe  fuch  copies  to  read  at 
particular  hours,  when  the  temper  of  his  mind  is 
Anted  to  the  fong.  Let  him  come  with  a  defire  to 
be  entertained  and  pleas'd,  rather  than  to  feek  his 
own  difguftand  averfion,  which  will  not  be  hard  to 
find.  I  am  not  fo  vain  as  to  think  there  are  no 
faults,  nor  fo  blind  as  to  efpy  none:  though  I  hope 
the  multitude  of  alterations  in  this  fecond  edition 
are  not  without  amendment.  There  is  fo  large  a 
difference  between  this  and  the  former,  in  the 
change  of  titles,  lines,  and  whole  poems,  as  well  as 
in  the  various  tranfpofitions,  that  it  would  be  ufelefs 
and  endlefs,  and  all  confufion,  for  any  reader  to 
compare  them  throughout.  The  additions  alfo 
make  up  almoft  half  the  book,  and  fome  of  thefe 
have  need  of  as  many  alterations  as  the  former. 
Many  a  line  needs  the  file  to  polifh  the  roughnefs 
of  it,  and  many  a  thought  wants  richer  language  to 
adorn  and  make  it  fnine.  Wide  defects  and  equal 
luperfluities  may  be  found,  efpecially  in  the  larger 
pieces;  but  I  have  at  prefent  neither  inclination  nor 
leifure  to  correct,  and  Y  hope  I  never  fhall.  'Tis 
one  of  the  biggeft  fatisfcWtions  I  take  in  giving  this 
volume  to  the  world,  that  I  expect  to  be  for  ever 
free  from  the  temptation  of  making  or  mending  po- 
ems again.*  So  that  rny  friends  may  be  perfectly 
fecure  againft  this  impreffion's  growing  wafte  upon 
their  hands,  and  ufelefs  as  the  former  has  done. 
Let  minds  that  are  better  furnifhed  for  fuch  per- 
formances purfue  thefe  ftudies,  if  they  are  convinced 

that 

*  Naturam  expellas  furca  licet,  ufque  recurret. 
Hor.  Will  this  port  note  of  Horace  excufe  a  man  -who 
has  rejifted  nature  many  years  but  has  been  Jometimes 
overcome?    1736.     Edition  the  jth. 


xxiv      The     PREFACE. 

that  poefy  can  be  made  ferviceable  to  religion  and 
virtue.  As  for  myfelf,  I  almoft  blufh  to  think  that 
I  have  read  fo  little,  and  written  fo  much.  The 
following  years  of  my  life  fhall  be  more  entirely  de- 
devoted  to  the  immediate  and  dire<ft  labours  of  my 
(ration  excepting  thofe  hours  that  may  be  employed 
in  finifhing  my  imitation  of  the  PJaims  of  David, 
in  chriftian  language,  which  1  have  now  promifed 
the  world.* 

I  cannot  court  the  world  to  purchafe  this  book  for 
their  pleafure  or  entertainment,  by  telling  them 
that  any  one  copy  entirely  pleafes  me.  The  beft  of 
them  finks  below  the  idea  which  1  form  of  a  divine 
or  moral  ode.  He  that  deals  in  the  myfteries  of 
heaven,  or  of  the  mufes,  fliould  be  a  genius  of  no 
vulgar  mould;  and  as  the  name  of  Votes  belongs  to 
both  ;  fo  the  furniture  of  both  is  comprized  in  that 
line  of  Horace. 

Cui  man  divinior,  atque  os 

Magna  fonaturum. 

But  what  Juvenal  fpake  in  his  age,  abides  true 
in  ours :  a  complete  p*oct  or  a  prophet  is  fuch  a  one ; 
■  —  ^ualem  nequeo  monftrare,  &  fenlio  tantum. 

Perhaps  neither  of  thefe  characters  in  perfection 
(hall  ever  be  feen  on  earth,  till  the  feventh  angel 
has  founded  his  awful  trumpet;  till  the  victory  be 
compleat  over  the  beaft  and  his  image,  when  the 
natives  of  heaven  fhail  join  in  confort  with  prophets 
and  faints,  and  fing  to  their  golden  harps,  faivation, 
honour  and  glory  to  him  that  fits  upon  the  throne,  and  to 
the  Lamb  for  ever. 

May  14,  I7°9« 

O  N 


In  the  year  1719  tbefe  ivere  fnijl:ed  and  printed, 


On  Reading 

Mr.     W  AT  T  S's     Poems, 

Sacred  to  Piety  and  Devotion. 

T5EGARD  the  man  ivho  inferaphic  lays 
■        And  flowing  numbers  fmgs  his  Maker's  praife : 
He  needs  invoke  no  fabled  mufe's  art, 
The  heavenly  fong  comes  genuine  from  his  heart. 
From  that  pure  heart  -which  God  has  deign' d  ?  infpire 
With  holy  raptures  and  a  facred  fire. 
Thrice  happy  man,  whofe  foul  and  guilt lefs  Ireaft 
Are  -well  prepar'd  to  lodge  tV  almighty  guefl  7 
,Tis  he  that  lends  thy  tow'ring  thoughts  their  wing, 
And  tunes  thy  lyre  when  thou  attempt 'jl  to  fing  : 
He  to  thy  foul  lets  in  celeftial  day, 
Ev'n  whilft  imprifon'd  in  this^mortal  clay; 
By  death's  grim  afpetl  thou  art  not  alarm' d, 
He  for  thy  fake  has  death  itfelf  difarm'd; 
Nor  pall  the  grave  o'er  thee  a  victory  boafl / 
Her  triumph  in  thy  fifing  Jh all  be  loft, 
When  thou  Jh  alt  join  tV  angelick  choirs  above 
■In  never  ending  fongs  of  praife  and  lave. 


qSp 


EUSEBIA, 


T  O 


To  Mr.     WATTS, 

On  his  Divine  Poems. 

QAT,  human  feraph,  -whence  that  charming  force. 
That  flame!  that  foul!  which  animates  each  line; 
And  how  it  runs  with  fuch  a  graceful  eafe, 
Loaded  with  pond' rousfenfe  !  Say,  did  not  He 
"The  lovely  Jesus,  who  commands  thy  breaft, 
Infpire  thee  with  himfelft  With  Jesus  dwells, 
Knit  in  myfterious  bands,  the  Paraclete, 
The  breath  of  God,  the  everlafting  fource 
Of  love:  and  what  is  love  in  fouls  like  thine. 
But  air,  and  incenfe  to  the  poet's  fire  ? 
Should  an  expiring  faint  -«.hofe  fwimming  eyes 
Mingle  the  images  of  things  about  him, 
But  hear  the  leaf  exalted  of  ihy  fir  dins, 
How  greedily  he'd  drink  the  mufick  in, 
Thinking  his  heav'nly  convoy  waited  near  ! 
So  great  a  Jlrefs  of  powerful  harmony, 
Nature  unable  longer  to  fuftain, 
Would  fink  opprefs'd  with  joy  to  endlefs  refl. 

Let  none  henceforth  of  Providence  complain, 
As  if  the  world  offpirits  lay  unknown, 
Fencd  round  with  black  unpenetrable  night; 
What  tho'  no  finning  angel  darts  from  thence 
With  leave  to  publijh  things  conceal 'd  from  fenfe, 
In  language  bright  as  theirs,  we  are  here  told, 
When  life  its  narrow  round  of  years  hath  roll  d, 
What  'tis  employs  the  blefs'd,  what  makes  their  blifs; 
Songs  fuch  as  WATT'i  are,  and  love  like  his. 

But  then,  dear  fir,  be  cautious  how  you  ufe 
To  iranfportsfo  intenfely  rais'dyour  mufe, 
Left,  whilft  tV  ecjlatick  impulfe  you  obey, 
The  foul  leap  out,  and  drop. the  duller  clay. 

Sept.  4,  1706.  Henry  Grove. 

TO 


To   THE    R.EVERENB 

Dr.      W     A     T     T     S, 

G  N    H  I  S 

DIVINE'POEMSw 


C A  Y,  /miling  mu/e,  -what  heav'nly  fir  am 
^     Forbids  the  -waves  to  roar; 
Comes  gently-gliding  o'er  the  main, 
And  charms  our  lifi'ning  Jhore ! 

What  angel  firikes  the  trembling  firings ; 

And  -whence  the  golden  found! 
Or  is  it  Watts — or  Gabriel  fings 

From  yon  celefiial  ground? 

*Tii  thou,  /era flick  Watts  ;  thy  lyre 

Plays  /oft  along  the  floods; 
Thy  notes,  the  dnpw'ring  hills  in/pire, 

And  bend  the  -waving  -woods. 

The  meads,  -with  dying  mufick  fiWd, 

Their  /miling  honours  Jhoiv, 
While,  •whi/perivg  o'er  each  /ragrant  field, 

The  tune/ul  breezes  blow. 

The  rapture  founds  in  ev^ry -trace, 

Fvn  the  rough  rocks  regale, 
Frefi  flow'ry  joys  flame  o'er  the  /ace: 

0/  ev'ry  laughing  vale. 

G  %.  Am 


And  thou,  my  foul,  the  tranfport  own, 

Fir'd  -with  immortal  heat ; 
Whilft  dancing  pulfes  driving  on, 

About  thy  tody  beat. 

Long  as  the  fun  Jhall  rear  his  head. 
And  chafe  the  flying  glooms. 

As  blujlnng  from  his  nuptial  bed 
The  gallant  bridegroom  comes: 

Long  as  the  dufky  evening  flies 
And  flieds  a  doubtful  light, 

While  fudden  rujh  along  the  fkies 
The  fable  /hades  of  night  : 

0  Watts,  thy  facred  lays  fo  long 

Shall  ev'ry  bofom  fire; 
And  ev'ry  mufe,  and  evry  tongue, 

To  fpeak  thy  praife,  conjpire. 

When  thy  fair  foul  Jhall  on  the  ivings. 

Of  Jliouting  feraphs  rife, 
And  -with  fuperior  fweetnefs  Jsngs 

Amid  thy  native  fkies; 

Still  fliatl  thy  lofty  numbers  flow, 

Alelodious  and  divine; 
And  choirs  above,  and  faints  below, 

A  deathlefs  chorus  !  join. 

To  our  far  Jhores  the  found  Jhall  roll, 

(So  Philomela  fung ) 
And  eafi  to  -weft,  and  pole  to  pole 

Th*  eternal  tune  prolong. 


New-England, 
Bojlon,  March  15,  1 725. 


M.  Btlbs, 


H  0  R  JE    LYRICS. 
BOOK     I. 

Sacred  to  Devotion  and  Piett. 


Worshipping  ivith  Fear. 


W 


HO  dares  attempt  th'  eternal  name 
With  notes  of  mortal  found  ? 

Dangers  and  glories  guard  the  theme, 
And  fpread  defpair  around. 


II. 

Deftru£rion  waits  t'  obey  his  frown, 
And  heaven  attends  his  fmile; 

A  wreath  of  lightning  arms  his  crown, 
But  love  adorns  it  dill. 

HI. 

Celeftial  king,  our  fpirits  lie, 
Trembling  beneath  thy  feet, 

And  wifti,  and  caft  a  longing  eye, 
To  reach  thy  lofty  feat. 


C  a  I^> 


3o      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

IV 

When  mall  we  fee  the  great  unknown, 

And  in  thy  prefence  (land  ? 
Reveal  the  fplendors  of  thy  throne,. 

But  mield  us  with  thy  hand. 

V. 

In  thee  what  endlefs  wonders  meet! 

What  various  glory  mines! 
The  eroding  rays  too  fiercely  beat 

Upon  our  fainting  minds. 

VI. 

Angels  are  loft  in  fweet  fin-prize 

If  thou  unvail  thy  grace; 
And  humble  awe  runs  thro'  the  ikies, 

When  wrath  arrays  thy  face. 

VII.. 
When  mercy  joins  with  majefly 

To  fpread  their  beams  abroad, 
Not  ail  their  faireft  minds  on  high 

Are  fhadows  of  a  God. 

VIII. 
Thy  works  the  ftrongeft  feraph  fings 

In  a  too  feeble  drain, 
And  labours  hard  on  ail  his  firings 

To  reach  thy  thoughts  in  vain. 

IX. 

Created  powers,  how  weak  they  be! 

How  fhort  our  praifes  fall! 
So  much  akin  to  nothing  we, 

And  thou  th'  eternal  all. 


Jfiing 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      3* 

Ajling  Leave  to  Sing. 
I. 

YET,  mighty  God  indulge  my  tongue,, 
Nor  let  thy  thunders  roar, 
"Whilfl:  the  young  notes  and  vent'rous  fong 
To  worlds  of  glory  foar. 

II.. 

If  thou  my  daring  flight  forbid 

The  mufe  folds  up  her  wings:: 
Or  at  thy  word  her  flender  reed 

Attempts  almighty  things. 

III. 

Her  flender  reed  infpir'd  by  thee 

Bids  a  new  Eden  grow, 
With  bloomirg  life  on  every  tree, 

And  fpreads  a  heav'n  below. 

IV. 

She  mocks  the  trum-pets  loud  alarms 

Fill'd  with  thy  dreadful  breath; 
And  calls  the  angelick  hofts  to  arms, 

To  give  the  nations  death. 

V. 

But  when  fhe  taftes  her  faviour's  love, 

And  feels  the  raptures  ftrong, 
Scarce  the  divined  harp  above 

Aims  at  a  fweeter  fong, 


Divine 


32       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  L 

Divine   Judgments. 
I. 

NOT  from  the  duft  my  forrows  fpring, 
Nor  drop  my  comforts  from  the  lower  ikies; 

.Let  all  the  baneful  planets  fhed 

Their  mingled  curies  on  my  head, 
How  vain  their  curfes,  if  th'  eternal  king 
Look  thro'  the  clouds  and  blefs  me  with  his  eyes. 

Creatures  with  all  their  boafted  fway 

Are  but  his  fiaves,    and  muft  obey; 

They  wait  their  orders  from  above, 
And  execute  his  word,  the  vengeance,  or  the  love- 
II. 

'Tis  by  a  warrant  from  his  hand 

The  gentler  gaits  are  bound  to  fleep : 
The  north  wind  blufters,  and  aflumes  command 

Over  the  defert  and  the  deep; 

Old  Borea'  with  his  freezing  pow'rs 
Turns  the  earth  iron,   makes  the  ocean  glafs, 
Arrefts  the  dancing  riv'lets  as  they  pafs. 

And  chains  them  movelefs  to  their  fhores; 
The  grazing  ox  !ows  to  the  gcliri  (kics, 
Walks  o'er  the  marble  meads  with  withering  eyes,. 
Walks  o'er  the  folid  lakes,  ihuffsup  the  wind  and  dies. 

in. 

Fly  to  the  polar  world,  my  fong, 
And  mourn  the  pilgrims  there,  (a  wretched  throng  !) 

Seiz'd  and  bound  in  rigid  chains, 

A  troop  of  ftatues  on  the  Ruffian  plains, 
And  life  (lands  frozen  in  the  prrple  veins. 

Atheift,  forbear;  no  more  blafpheme; 
God  has  a  thoufand  terrors  in  his  name, 

A  thoufand  armies  at  command, 

Wai;  ing  the  fignal  of  his  hand, 
And  magazines  of  froft,  and  magazines  of  flame.    «, 

Drtfs 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.       33 

Drefs  thee  in  fteel  to  meet  his  wrath; 

His  fharp  artillery  from  the  north 
Shall  pierce  thee  to  the  foul,  and  make  thy  mortal 
frame. 

Sublime  on  winter's  rugged  wings 

He  rides  in  arms  along  the  iky, 
And  fcatters  fate  on  fwains  and  Kings; 

And  flocks  and  herds,  and  nations  die  j 

While  impious  lips,  profanely  bold, 
Grow  pale;  and,  quivering  at  his  dreadful  cold, 

Give  their  own  blafphemies  the  lie. 
IV. 

The  mifchiefs  that  infefr  the  earth, 
When  the  hotdog-ftar  fires  the  realms  on  high9 

Drought  and  difeafe,  and  cruel  death, 
Are  but  the  flalhes  of  a  wrathful  eye 

From  the  incens'd  divinity. 

In  vain  our  parching  palates  thirft 
For  vital  food  in  vain  we  cry, 

And  pant  for  vital  breath ; 

The  verdant  fields  are  burnt  to  dufr,. 

The  fun  has  drunk  the  channels  dry, 
And  all  the  air  is  death. 

Ye  fcourges  of  our  maker's  rod, 
Tis  at  his  dread  command,  at  his  imperial  nod 

You  deal  your  various  plagues  abroad. 
V. 

Hail,  whirlwinds,  hurricanes  and  floods 

That  all  the  leafy  flandards  (trip, 

And  bear  down  with  a  mighty  fweep 
The  riches  of  the  fields,  and  honours  of  the  woods \ 

Storms,   that  ravage  o'er  the  deep 
And  bury  millions  in  the  waves; 

Earthquakes,  that  in  mid-night  fleep 
Turn  cities  into  heaps,  and  make  our  beds  our  graves  % 

While 


34       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  L 

While  you  difpenfe  your  mortal  harms, 
"Tis  the  creator's  voice  thatfoundsyour  loud  alarms, 
When  guilt  with  louder  cries  provokes  a  God  to  arms. 
VI. 

0  for  a  mefTage  from  above 
To  bear  my  fpirits  up! 

Some  pledge  of  my  Creator's  love 

To  calm  my  terrors  and  fupport  my  hope  I 

Let  waves  and  thunders  mix  and  roar, 

Be  thou  my  God,  and  the  whole  world  is  mine  : 

While  thou  art  fov'reign,  I'm  fecure; 

1  mail  be  rich  till  thou  art  poor; 

For  all  I  fear,  and  all  I  wifh,  heav'n,  earth  and 
hell  are  thine. 


Earth  and  Heaven, 
I. 

HAST  thou  not  feen,  impatient  boy  ?~ 
Haft  thou  not  read  the  folemn  truth, 
That  grey  experience  writes  for  giddy  youth 
On  every  mortal  joy  ? 
Fleafure  mufl  he  dafl? ■  d  with  pain  : 
And  yet  with  heedlefs  hafte, 
The  thirfty  boy  repeats  the  tafte, 
Nor  hearkens  to  defpair,  but  tries  the  bowl  again. 
The  rills  of  pleafure  never  run  fincere; 

(Earth  has  no  unpolluted  fpring) 
From  the  curs'd  foil  fomedang'rous  taint  they  bear; 
So  rofes  grow  on  thoi  ns,  and  honey  wears  a  fling. 

II. 
In  vain  we  feek  a  heaven  below  the  fky; 

The  world  has  falfe,  but  flatt'ring  charms; 
Its  diflant  joys  (how  big  in  our  efteem, 
But  leflen  ftill  as  they  draw  near  the  eye; 

It* 


Sacred  to  D E  vo  t  i  on,  &c.        3  5 

r 

In  our  embrace  the  virions  die, 
And  when  we  grafp  the  airy  forms 
We  lofe  the  pleaiing  dream. 
III. 
Earth,  with  her  fcenes  of  gay  delight9 
Is  but  a  landikip  rudely  drawn, 
With  glaring  colours,  and  falfe  light; 
Diftancc  commends  it  to  the  fight, 

For  foois  to  gaze  upon; 
But  briag  the  naufeous  daubing  nigh, 
Coarfe  and  confus'd  the  hideous  figures  He, 
DifTolve  the  pleafure,  and  offend  the  eye. 

IV. 
Look  up,  my  foul,  pant  tow'rd  th'  eternal  hills; 

Thofe  heav'ns  are  fairer  than  they  feem  ; 
There  pleafures  ail  fincere  glide  on  in  cryflal  rills, 
There  not  a  dreg  of  guilt  defiles, 
Nor  grief  difturbs  the  ftream. 
That  Canaan  knows  no  noxious  thing, 
No  curfed  foil,  no  tainted  fpring, 
Nor  rofes  grow  on  thorns,  nor  honey  wears  a  fling. 


Felicity   Above, 

NO,  'tis  in  vain  to  feek  for  blifs; 
For  blifs  can  ne'er  be  found 
'Till  we  arrive  where  Jesus  is, 
"And  tread  on  heav'nly  ground. 
II. 
There's  nothing  round  thefe  painted  fkles, 

Or  round  his  dufty  clod  ; 
Nothing,  my  foul,  that°s  worth  thy  joys, 
Or  lovely  as  thy  God. 

III. 


36     LYRIC   POEMS,      Book  I. 
in. 

'Tis  heav'n  on  earth  to  tafte  his  love, 

To  feel  his*  quickning  grace ; 
And  all  the  heav'n  I  hope  above 

Is  but  to  fee  his  face. 
IV. 
Why  move  my  years  in  flow  delay  ? 

O  God  of  ages?  why? 
Let  the  fpheres  cleave,  and  mark  my  way 

To  the  fuperior  iky. 

V. 
Dear  Sov'reign,  break  thefe  vital  firing* 

That  bind  me  to  my  clay  ; 
Take  me,  Uriel,  on  thy  wings, 

And  flretch  and  foar  away. 


GOD's  Dominion  and  Decrees* 
I. 

KEEP  filence,  all  created  things, 
And  wait  your  Maker's  nod  : 
The  mufe  (lands  trembling  while  (he  fings 
The  honours  of  her  God. 
II. 
Life,  death,  and  hell,  and  worlds  unknown 
Hang  on  his  firm  decree  : 
He  fits  on  no  precarious  throne, 
Nor  borrows  leave  to  be. 
III. 
Th'  almighty  voice  bid  ancient  night 

Her  endlefs  realms  refign, 
And  lo,  ten  thoufand  globes  of  light 
In  fields  of  azure  fhine. 

IV. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  Sec.     37 

IV. 

Now  wifdom  with  fnperiof  fway 
Guides  the  vaft  moving  frame, 
Whilft  all  the  ranks  of  being  pay, 
Deep  rev'rence  to  his  name. 
V. 
He  fpake;  the  fun  obedient  flood, 

And  held  the  falling  day; 
Old  Jordan  backward  drives  his  flood, 
And  difappoints  the  fea. 
VI. 
Lord  of  the  armies  of  the  fky, 

He  marfhals  all  the  flars; 
Red  comets  lift  their  banners  high, 
And  wide  proclaim  his  wars. 
VII. 
Chain'd  to  his  throne  a  volume  lies^ 

With  all  the  fates  of  men, 
With  every  angel's   form  and  fize 
Drawn  by  th'  eternal  pen. 
VIII. 
His  providence  unfolds  the  book, 
And  makes  his  counfels  mine: 
Each  opening  leaf,  and  every  ftroke, 
Fulfils  fome  deep  defign. 
IX. 
Here  he  exalts  neglefted  worms 

To  fcepters  and  a  crown; 
Anon  the  following  page  he  turns, 
And  treads  the  monarch  down. 
X. 
Not  Gabiiel  afks  the  reafon  why, 

Nor  God  the  reafon  gives : 
Nor  dares  the  favourite  angel  pry 
Between  the  folded  leaves. 

D  "XI. 


38      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

XI. 

My  God,  I  never  long'd  to  fee 

My  fate  with  curious  eyes, 
What  gloomy  lines  are  writ  for  me, 

Or  what  bright  fcenes  fhall  rife. 
XII. 
In  thy  fair  book  of  life  and  grace 

May  I  but  find  my  name, 
Recorded  in  fome  humble  place 

Beneath  my  Lord  the  Lamb. 

Self-Confecration* 

IT  grieves  me,  Lord,  it  grieves  me  fore, 
That  I  have  llv'd  to  thee  no  more, 
And  wafted  half  my  days; 
My  inward  pow'rs  fhall  burn  and  flame 
With  zeal  and  paffion  for  thy  name, 
I  would  not  fpeak,  but  for  my  God,  nor  move,  but 
to  his  praife. 

II. 
What  are  my  eyes  but  aids  to  fee 
The  glories  of  the  Deity 

Infcrib'd  with  beams  of  light 
On  flow'rs  and  flars  ?  Lord,  I  behold 
The  fhining  azure,  green  and  gold; 
But  when  I  try  to  read  thy  name,  a  dimnefs  veils 
my  fight. 

III. 
Mine  ears  are  rais'd  when  Virgil  fings 
Sicilian  fwains,  or  Trojan  kings, 
And  drink  the  mufic  in  : 
Why  fhould  the  trumpet's  brazen  voice, 

Or  oaten  reed  awake  my  joys, 
And  yet  my  heart  fo  ftttaid  lie  when  facred  hymns 
begin  ?  IV. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.     39 

IV. 
Change  me,  O  God;  my  flefh  mall  be 
An  infhument  of  fong  to  thee, 
And  thou  the  notes  infpire; 
My  tongue  (hall  keep  the  heav'nly  chime, 
My  ehearful  pulfe  fhall  beat  the  time, 
And  fweet    variety  of  found    fhall  in_  thy    praife 
confpire, 

V. 
The  deareft  nerve  about  my  heart, 
Should  it  refufe  to  bear  a  part. 
With  my  melodious  breath, 
I'd  tear  away  the  vital  cord, 
A  bloody  victim  to  my  Lord, 
And  live  without  that  impious  firing,  or  fhew  my 
zeal  in  death. 


The  Creator,   and  Creatures. 


GOD  is  a  name  my  foul  adores, 
Th'  Almighty  Three,  th' Eternal  One| 
Nature  and  grace  with  ail  their  pow'rs, 
Confefs  the  Infinite  Unknown. 

II. 
From  thy  Great  Self  thy  being  fprings; 
Thou  art  thine  own  original, 
Made  up  of  uncreated  things, 
And  felf-fufhcience  bears  them  all. 

III? 
Thy  voice  produe'd  the  feas  and  fpheres, 
Bid  the  waves  roar,  and  planets  lhine; 
But  nothing  like  thyfelf  appears, 
Thro'  all  thefe.  fpacious  works  of  thine. 

P  %  IY. 


40      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
iv. 

Still  reftlefs  nature  dies  and  grows; 
From  change  to  change  the  creatures  run; 
Thy  being  no  fucceffion   knows, 
And  all  thy  vail  defigns  are  one; 

V. 
A  glance  of  thine  runs  thro'  the  globes, 
Rules  the  bright  worlds,  and  moves  their  frame  l 
Broad  fheets  of  light  compofe  thy  robes; 
Thy  guards  are  form'd  of  living  flame. 

VI. 
Thrones  and  dominions  round  thee  fall, 
And  worfhip  in  fubmiflive  forms; 
Thy  prefence  (hakes  this  lower  ball, 
This  little  dwelling-place  of  worms. 

VII. 
How  (hall  affrighted  mortals  dare 
To  fing  thy   glory  or  thy  grace, 
Beneath  thy  feet  we  lie  fo  far, 
And  fee  but  fhadows  of  thy  face? 

VIII. 
Who  can  behold  the  blazing  light? 
Who  can  approach  confuming  flame? 
None  but  thy  wifdom  knows  thy  might; 
None  but  thy  word  can  fpeak  thy  name. 


The  Nativity  of  Christ. 


"  QHEPHERDS,  rejoice,  lift  up  your  eyes, 

O     "  And  fend  your  fears  away; 
"  News  from  the  region  of  the  fkies, 
"  Salvation's  born  to  day. 

//. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     41 
11. 

"  JESUS,  the  God  whom  angels  fear, 

*'  Comes  down  to  dwell  with  you; 
<{  To-day  he  makes  his  entrance  here, 
"  J8ut  not  as  monarchs  do. 
III. 
"  No  gold,  nor  purple  fwadling  bauds, 

"  Nor  royal  mining  things; 
te  A  manger  for  his  cradle  {lands, 
"  And  holds  the  King  of  kings. 
IV. 
"  Go,  fhepherds,  where  the  infant  lies, 

"  And  fee  his  humble  throne ; 
"  With  tears  of  joy  in  all  your  eyes, 
"  Go,  fhepherds,  kifs  the  Son." 
V. 
Thus  Gabriel  fang,  and  ftrait  around 

The  heavenly  armies  throng, 
They  tune  their  harps  to  lofty  found, 
And  thus  conclude  the  fong : 
VI. 
"  Glory  to  God  that  reigns  above, 
*'  Let  peace  furround  the  earth  : 
"  Mortals  fhall  know  their  Maker's  love, 
"  At  their  Redeemer's  birth." 
VIT. 
Lord!  and  fhall  angels  have  their  fongs, 

And  men  no  tunes  to  raife? 
O  may  we  lofe  thefe  ufelefs  tongues 
When  they  forget  to  praife ! 
VIII. 
Glory  to  God  that  reigns  above, 

That  pitied  us  forlorn, 
We  join  to  fing  our  Maker's  love, 
For  there's  a  Saviour  born. 


D  3 


God 


42     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

God   Glorious,    and  Sinners  faved* 
I. 

FATHER,  how  wide  thy  glory  fliines! 
How  high  thy  wonders  rife! 
Known  thro'  the  earth   by  thoufand  figns, 
By  thoufand  thro'  the  fkies. 
II. 
Thofe  mighty  orbs  proclaim  thy  power, 

Their  motions  fpeak  thy  (kill; 
And  on  the  wings  of  every  hour, 
We  read  thy  patience  {till. 
III. 
Part  of  thy  name  divinely  (lands 

On  all  thy  creatures  writ, 
They  fliew  the  labour  of  thine  hands-,. 
Or  imprefs  of  thy  feet. 
IV. 
But  when  we  view  thy  ftrange  defign 

To  fave  rebellious  worms, 
Where  vengeance  and  compaffion  join 
In  their  divined  forms. 
V. 
Our  thoughts  are  loft  in  reverend  awe; 

We  love  and  we  adore  : 
The  firft  arch-angel  never  faw 
So  much  of  God  before. 
VI. 
Here  the  whole  deity  is  knowrr, 

Nor  dares  a  creature  guefs 
Which  of  the  glories  brighteft  flione, 
The  juftice  or  the  grace. 
VII. 
When  finners  broke  the  father's  laws, 
The  dying  fon  attones  j 

Oh. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     43 

Oh  the  dear  myfteries  of  his  crofs! 

The  triumph  of  his  groans! 
VIII. 
Now  the  full  glories  of  the  Lamb 

Adorn  the  heavenly  plains; 
Sweet  cherubs  learn  Immanuel's  name3 

And  try  their  choifeft  drains. 
IX. 
O  may  I  bear  fome  humble  part 

In  that  immortal  fong! 
Wonder  and  joys  fhall  tune  my  heart, 

And  love  command  my  tongue. 


The  humble  Inquiry. 

A  French  Sonnet  imitated.     1695. 

Grand  Dieu,  tes  Jugemens,  &c. 

I. 

GRACE  rules  below,  and  fits  enthron'd  above,. 
How  few  the  fparks   of  wrath  how  flow  they 
move 
And  drop  and  die  in  boundlefs  feas  of  love  ! 

II. 
But  me,  vile  wretch!  fhould  pitying  love  embrace, 
Deep  in  its  ocean,  hell  itfelf  would  biaze, 
And  flafh,  and  burn  me  thro'  the  boundlefs  Teas. 

III. 
Yea,  Lord,  my  guilt  to  fuch  a  vaftnefs  grown 
Seems  to  confine  thy  choice  to  wrath  alone, 
And  calls  thy  power  to  vindicate  thy  throne, 

IV. 
Thine  honour  bids,  avenge  thine  injur'd  name, 
Thy  flighted  loves  a  dreadful  glory  claim. 
While  my  moiil:  tears  might  but  incenfe  thy  flame. 


44     LYRIC    POE  MS,     Book  L 
v. 

Should  heav'n  grow  black,  almighty  thunder  roar, 
And  vengeance  blaft  me,  I  could  plead  no  more, 
But  own  thy  juftice  dying,  and  adore. 

VI. 
Yet  can  thofe  bolts  of  death  that  cleave  the  flood 
To  reach  a  rebel,  pierce  thisfacred  fhroud, 
Ting'd  in  the  vital  ftream  of  my  Redeemer's  blood  ? 


The  Penitent  pardoned* 
I. 

HENCE  from  my  foul,  my  fins,  depart^ 
Your  fatal  friendlhip  now  I  fee; 
Long  have  you  dwelt  too  near  my  heart, 
Hence,  to  eternal  diftance  flee. 

II. 
Ye  gave  my  dying  Lord  his  wound, 
Yet   I   carefs'd  your  viperous  brood, 
And  in  my  heart-firings  lapp'd  you  round, 
You,  the  vile  murderers  of  my  God. 

III. 
Black  heavy  thoughts,  like  mountains,  roll 
O'er  my  poor  breaft,  with  boding  fears, 
And  crufhing  hard  my  tortur'd  foul, 
Wring  thro'  my  eyes  the  briny  tears. 

IV. 
Forgive  my  treafons,  prince  of  grace, 
The  bloody  Jews  were  traitors  too, 
Yet  thou  haft  pray'd  for  that  curs'd  race, 
Father.,  they  knovj  not  -what  they  do. 

V. 
Great  advocate  look  down  and  fee 
A  wretch,  whofe  fmarting  forrows  bleed ; 
O  plead   the  fame  excufe  for  me! 
For,  Lord,  I  knew  not  what  I  did.  VI. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &e.     45 

VI 

Peace,  my  complaints;  let  every  groan. 
Be  ftill,  and  filence  wait  his  love; 
Companions  dwell  amidft  his  throne, 
And  thro3  his  inmoft  bowels  move. 

VII. 
Lo,  from  the  everlafiing  fkies, 
Gently,  as  morning-dews  diftill, 
The  dove  immortal,  downward  flies, 
With  peaceful  olive  in  his  bill. 

VIII. 
How  Tweet  the  voice  of  pardon  founds! 
Sweet  the  relief  to  deep  diftrefs ! 
I  feel  the  balm  that  heals  my   wounds, 
And  all  my  pow'rs  adore  thy  grace. 

A    Hymn    of   Praife    for  three  great 
Salvations,    viz, 

1.  Erom  the  Spanifh  Invafion,  1588. 

2.  From  the  Gun-powder  Plot,  Nov.  5. 

3.  From  Popery  and  Slavery,  by  K.  William  of 
Glorious  Memory,  who  landed,  Nov.  5, 1688.    : 

Comppfed,  Nov.  5,  1695, 
I. 

INFINITE  God,  thy  counfels  ftand   : 
Like  mountains  of  eternal  brafs, 
Pillars  to  prop  our  linking  land, 
Or  guardian  rocks  to  break  the  feas. 

II. 
From  pole  to  pole  thy  name  is  known, 
Thee  a  whole  heaven  of  angels  praife; 
Our  labouring  tongues  would  reach  thy  throne 
With  the  loud  triumphs  of  thy  grace. 


4<5      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
in. 

Part  of  thy  church,  by  thy  command, 
Stands  rais'd  upon  the  Britifh  ifles; 
There,  faid  the  Lord,  to  ages  ftand, 
Firm  as  the  cverlajling  hills. 

IV. 
In  vain  the  Spanifh  ocean  roar'd; 
Jts  billows  fwell'd  againft  our  more, 
Its  billows  funk  beneath  thy  word, 
With  all  the  floating  war  they  bore. 

V. 
Come,  faid  the  fons  of  bloody  Rome, 
Let  us  provide  new  arms  from  hell: 
And  down  they  digg'd  thro'  earth's  dark  womb, 
And  ranfack'd  all  the  burning  cell. 

VI. 
Old  fatan  lent  them   fiery  flores, 
Infernal  coal,  and  fulph'rous  flame, 
And  all  that  burns,  and  all  that  roars, 
Outrageous  fires  of  dreadful  name. 

VII. 
Beneath  the  fenate  and  the  throne, 
Engines  of  heliifh  thunder  lay; 
There  the  dark  feeds  of  fire  were  fown, 
To  fpring  a  bright,  but  difmal  day. 

VIII. 
Thy  love  beheld  the  black  defign, 
Thy  love  that  guards  our  ifland  round; 
Strange!   how  it  quenched  the  fiery  mine, 
And  ciufli'd  the  tempeit  under  ground. 


The 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.       47 


The  Second  Part. 
I. 

ASSUME,  my  tongue,  a  nobler  drain, 
Sing  the  new  wonders  of  the  Lord; 
The  foes  revive  their  pow'rs  again, 
Again  they  die  beneath  his  fword. 

II. 
Dark  as  our  thoughts  our  minutes  roll, 
While  tyranny  poflefs'd  the  throne, 
And  murderers  of  an  Irifh  foul 
Ran,  threatning  death,  thro'  every  town. 

III. 
The  Roman  prieft,  and  Britifh  prince, 
Join'd  their  belt  force,  and  blacked  charms, 
And  the  fierce  troops  of  neighbouring  France, 
OfFer'd  the  fervice  of  their  arms. 

IV. 
'Tisdone,  they  cry'd,  and  laugh'd  aloud. 
The  courts  of"  darknefs  rang  with  joy, 
Th'  old  ferpent  hifs'd,  and  hell  grew  proud, 
While  Zion  mourn'd  her  ruin  nigh. 

V. 
But  lo,  the  great  deliverer  fails, 
Commiffion'd  from  Jehovah's  hand, 
And  fmiling  feas,  and  wilhing  gales, 
Convey  him  to  the  longing  land. 

VI. 
The  happy  day,  and  happy  year,    ">  M  _™R 

Both  in  our  new  falvation  meet:  J  Nov*  5'  lb™' 
The  day  that quench'd  theburning  fnare,  ">  Nov.  5, 
The  year  that  burnt  the  invading  fleet,     j    1588. 

VII. 


48       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book!. 

VII. 
Now  did  thine  arm,  O  God  of  hofts, 
Now  did  thine  arm,  mine  dazling  bright, 
The  Tons  of  might  their  hands  had   loft, 
And  men  of  blood  forgot  to  fight. 

VIII. 
Brigades  of  angels  lin'd  the  way, 
And  guarded   William  to  his  throne; 
There,  ye  celeftial  warriors,  ftay, 
And  make  his  palace  like  your  own. 

IX. 
Then,  mighty  Gob,  the  earth  (hall  know 
And  learn  the  worlhip  of  the  iky: 
Angels  and  Britons  join  below, 
To  raife  their  halielujahs  high. 

X. 
All  hallelujah,  heavenly  king; 
While  diflant  lands  thy  victory  fing, 
And  tongues  their  utmoft  powers  employ, 
The  world's  bright  roof  repeats  the  joy. 

The   Incomprehenfible* 

FAR  in  the  heav'ns  my  God  retires, 
My  God,  the  mark  of  my  defires, 
And  hides  his  lovely  face; 
When  he  defcends  within  my  view, 
He  charms  my  reafon  to  purfue, 
Butleaves  it  tir'dandfaintinginth'  unequal  chafe. 
II. 
Or  if  I  reach  unufual  height 

Till  near  his  prefence  brought, 
There  floods  of  glory  check  my  flight, 
Cramp  the  bold  pinions  of  my  wit,  . 
And  all  untune  my  thought; 

Plung'd 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      49 

Plung'd  in  a  fea  of  light  I  roll, 
Where  ivifdom,  juftice,  mercy,  fhines; 
Infinite  rays  in  crofling  lines 
Beat  thick  confufion  on  my  fight,  and  overwhelm 
my  foul. 

III. 
Come  to  my  aid,  ye  fellow-minds, 
And  help  me  reach  the  throne; 
(What  fmgle  ftrength,  in  vain  defigns, 
United  force  hath  done; 
Thus  worms  may  join,  and  grafp  the  poles, 

Thus  atoms  fill  the  fea) 
But  the  whole  race  of  creature -fouls 
Strctch'd  to  their  lafl  extent  of  thought,  plunge 
and  are  loft  in  thee. 
.    IV. 
Great  Goo,  behold  my  reafon  lies 
Adoring;  yet  my  love  would  rife 

On  pinions  not  her  own  : 
Faith  fh  ill  direft  her  humble  flight 
Thro'  all  the  tracklefs  feas  of  light, 
To  Thee,  th'  Eternal  Fair,  the  Infinite  Unknown,, 


Death  and  Eternity, 
I. 

MY  thoughts,  that  often  mount  the  Ikies, 
Go,  fearcb  the  world  beneath, 
Where  nature  in  all  ruin  lies, 
And  owns  her  fov' reign,  death. 
II. 
The  tyrant,  how  he  triumphs  here! 

His  trophies  fpread  around! 
And  heaps  of  duft  and  bones  appear 
Thro'  all  the  hollow  ground. 

E  HI. 


So     LTRIC    POEMS,      Book  I, 
in. 

Thefe  fkulls,  what  ghaftly  figures  now! 

How  loathfome  to  the  eyes? 
Thefe  are  the  heads  we  lately  knew 

So  beauteous  and  fo  wife. 
IV. 
But  where  the  fouls,  thofe  deathlefs  things, 

That  left  this  dying  clay  ? 
My  thoughts,  now  flretch  out  all  your  wings, 

And  trace  eternity. 

V. 
O  that  unfathomable  fea ! 

Thofe  deeps  without  a  fhore! 
Where  living  waters  gently  play, 

Or  fiery  billows  roar. 

VI. 
Thus  muft  we  leave  the  banks  of  life, 

And  try  this  doubtful  fea; 
Vain  are  our  groans,  and  dying  frrife, 

To  gain  a  moment's  flay. 
VI L 
There  we  fhall  fwim  in  heavn'Iy  blifs, 

Or  fink  in  flaming  waves, 
While  the  pale  carcafe  thoughtlefs  lies, 

Amongft  the  filent  graves. 
VIII. 
Some  hearty  friend  fhall  drop  his  tear 

On  our  dry  bones,  and  fay, 
"  Thefe  once  were  ftrong,  as  mine  appear, 

"  And  mine  muft  be  as  they." 
IX. 
Thus  fhall  our  mould'ring  members  teach 

What  now  our  fenfes  learn  : 
For  duft  and  afhes  loudeft  preach 

Man's  infinite  concern. 

A  Sight 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.        51 

A  Sight  of  Heaven  in  Sicknefs, 
1. 

OFT  have  I  fat  in  fecret  fighs, 
To  feel  my  fleih  decay, 
Then  groan'd  aloud  with  frighted  eyes, 
To  view  the  tott'ring  clay. 
II. 
But  I  forbid  my  forrows  now, 

Nor  dares  the  flefh  complain; 
Difeafes  bring  their  profit  too; 
The  joy  o'ercomes  the  pain. 
III. 
My  chearful  foul  now  all  the  day- 
Sits  waiting  here  and  fings; 
Looks  thro'  the  ruins  of  her  clay, 
And  prattifes  her  wings. 
IV. 
Faith  almofl:  changes  into  fight, 

While  from  afar  fhe  fpies, 
Her  fair  inheritance,  in  light     * 
Above  created  ikies. 

V. 
Had  but  the  prifon-walls  been  frrong„ 

And   firm   without  a  flaw, 
In  darknefs  fhe  had  dwelt  too  long,.  ' 
And  lefs  of  glory  faw. 
VI. 
But  now  the  everlafting  hills 
Thro'   every  chink  appear, 
And  fomething  of  the  joy  fhe  feels 
While  fhe's  a  pris'ner  here. 
VII. 
The  (nines  of  heaven  rufh  fweetly-  m 
At  all  the  gaping  flaws; 

E.  &  Villous 


52       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

Vifions  of  endlefs  blifs  are  feen ; 

And  native  air  lhe  draws. 
till. 
O  may  thefe  walls  (land  tott'ring  ftill, 

The  breaches  never  clofe, 
If  I  mrft  here  in  darknefs  dwell, 

And  all  his  glory  lofe! 
IX. 
Or  rather  let  this  flefh  decay, 

The  ruins  wider  grow, 
Till  glad  to  fee  th'  enlarged  way, 

I  llretch  my  pinions  through. 


The   Univerfal  Hallelujah. 
Pfalm  cxlviii.   paraphrafed. 

PRAISE  ye  the  Lord  with  joyful  tongue. 
Ye  pow'rs  that  guard  his  throne; 
JESUS  the  Man  fhall  lead  the  fong. 
The  God  infpire  the  tune. 
II. 
Gabriel,  and  all  th'  immortal. choir 

That  fill  the  realms  above, 
Sing    for  he  form'd  you  of  his  fire, 
And  feeds  you  with  his  love. 
III. 
Shine  to  his  praiie,  ye  cryftal  fides. 

The  floor  of  his  abode, 
Or  veil  your  little  twinkling  eyes 
Before  a  brighter  God. 
IV. 
Thou  refrlefs  globe  of  golden  light, 

Whofe  beams  create  our  days, 
join  with  the  diver  queen  of  night, 
To  own  your  bonow'd  rays, 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      53 
v. 

Blufh  and  refund  the  honours  paid 

To  your  inferior  names; 
Tell  the  blind  world,  your  orbs  are  fed 

By  his  o'erflowing  flames. 
VI. 
Winds,  ye  fhall  bear  his  name  aloud, 

Thro'  the  etherial  blue, 
For  when  his  chariot  is  a  cloud, 

He  makes  his  wheels  of  you, 
,    VII. 
Thunder  and  hail,  and  fires  and  ftorms,. 

The  troops  of  his  command, 
Appear  in  all  your  dreadful  forms, 

And  ipeak  his  awful  hand. 

vii  r. 

Shout  to  the  Lord,  ye  furging  feas, 

In  your  eternal  roar; 
Let  wave  to.  wave  refound  his  praife, 

And  more  reply  to  more. 
IX. 
While  monflers  fporting  on  the  flood 

In  fcaly  filver  fhine, 
Speak  terribly  their  Maker  God, 

And  lafh  the  foaming  brine. 
X. 
Cut  gentler  things  fhall  tune  his  name 

To  fofter  notes  than  thefe, 
Young  zephyrs  breathing  o'er  the  ftream,. 

Or  whifpering  thro'  the  trees. 
XL 
Wave  your  tall  heads,  ye  lofty  pines, 

To  him  that  bid  you  grow, 
Sweet  clutters  bend  the  fruitful  vines 

On,  every  thankful  bough. 

E3  W* 


54     LYRIC    POE M S9     Book  I 
xn. 

Let  the  fhrill  birds  his  honour  raife, 

And  climb  the  morning  fky; 
While  groveling  hearts  attempt  his  praife 

In  hoarfer  harmony. 

XIII. 
Thus  while  the  meaner  creature  fing, 

Ye  mortals,  take  the  found, 
Echo  the  glories  of  your  King 

Thro'  all  the  nations  round. 
XIV. 
Th'  eternal  name  mud  fly  abroad 

From  Britain  to  Japan ; 
And  the  whole  race  (hall  bow  to  God 

That  owns  the  name  of  man. 


The  AtheiJTs  Miftake* 


LAUGH,  ye  prophane,  and  fwell  and  burft 
With  bold  impiety : 
Yet  fhall  ye  live  for  ever  curs'd, 
And  feek  in  vain  to  die. 
II. 
The  gafp  of  your  expiring  breath 

Configns  your  fouls  to  chains, 
By  the  lafl:  agonies  of  death 
Sent  down  to  fiercer  pains. 
III. 
Ye  (land  upon  a  dreadful  fleep, 

And  all  beneath  is  hell, 
Your  weighty  guilt  will  fink  you  deep, 
Where  the  old  ferpent  fell. 

IV. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c»      55 

IV. 
When  iron  (lumbers  hind  your  flefh, 

With  ftrange  furprize  you'll  find 
Immortal  vigour  fpring  afrefh, 
And  tortures  wake  the  mind! 
V. 
Then  you'll  confefs  the  frightful  names 

Of  plagues  you  fcorn'd  before, 
No  more  (hall  look  like  idle  dreams, 
Like  foolifh  tales  no  more,  j 
VI. 
Then  fhall  ye  curfe  that  fatal  day, 
(With  flames  upon  your  tongues) 
When  you  exchang'd  your  fouls  away 
For  vanity  and  fongs. 

VII. 
Behold  the  faints  rejoice  to  die, 

For  heav'n  mines  round  their  heads? 
And  angel  guards  prepar'd  to  fly. 
Attend  their  fainting  beds. 
VIII. 
Their  longing  fpirits  part,  and  rife 

To  their  celeftial  feat ; 
Above  thefe  ruinable  fkies 
They  make  their  laft  retreat. 
IX. 
Hence,  ye  prophane,  I  hate  your  ways, 

I  walk  with  pious  fouls; 
There's  a  wide  difference  in  our  race, 
And  diftant  are  our  goals. 


The 


56     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

The  Law  given  at  Sinai. 
I, 

ARM  thee  with  thunder,  heavenly  mufe, 
And  keep  th'  expecting  world  in  awe; 
Oft  haft  thou  fung  in  gentler  mood 
The  melting  mercies  of  thy  God; 
Now  give  thy  fierceft  fires  a  loofe, 

And  found  his  dreadful  law: 
To  Ifrael  firft  the  words  were  fpoke, 
To  Ifrael  freed  from  Egypt's  yoke, 
Inhuman  bondage!  the  hard  galling  load 
Over  prefs'd  their  feeble  fouls, 
Bent  their  knees  to  fenfelefs  bulls, 
And  broke  their  ties  to  God. 
II. 
Now  had  they  pafs'd  the  Arabian   bay, 

And  march'd  between  the  cleaving  fea; 
The  riling     waves    flood   guardians  of  their  won- 
drous way, 
But  fell  with  molt  impetuous  force, 

On  the  purfuing  fwarms, 
And  bury'd  Egypt  all  in  arms, 
Blending  in  watry  death  the  rider  and  the  horfe: 
O'er  ftruggling  Pliaraoh  roll'd  the  mighty  tide, 
And  fav'd  the  labours  of  a  pyramid. 
Apis  and  Ore  in  vain  he  cries, 
And  all  his  horned  Gods  befide, 
lie  fwallows  fate  with  fwimming  eyes, 
And  eurs'd  the  Hebrews  as  he  dy'd. 

III. 
Ah  !  foolifh   Ifrael,  to  comply 
With   Memphian  idolatry! 
And  bow  to  brutes,   (a  flupid  (lave) 

To  idols  impotent  to  fave!  Behold. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.      57 

Behold  thy  God,  the  fovereign  of  the  fky, 
Has  wrought  falvation  in  the  deep, 
Has  bound  thy  foes  in  iron  fleep, 
And  rais'd  thine  honours  high; 
His  grace  forgives  thy  follies  part, 
Behold  he  comes  in  majefty, 
And  Sinai's  top  proclaims  his  law: 
Prepare  to  meet  thy  God  in  haftej 
But  keep  an  awful  diftance  ftill : 
Let  Mofes  round  the  facred  hill 
The  circling  limits  draw. 
IV. 
Hark!  the  fhrill  echoes  of  the  trumpet  roar* 
And  call  the  trembling  armies  near: 
Slow  and  unwilling  they  appear, 
Rails  kept  them  from  the  mount  before, 

Now  from  the  rails  their  fear  : 
Twas  the  fame  herald,  and  the  trump  the  fame 
Which   fhall  be  blown  by  high   command, 
Shall  bid  the  wheels  of  nature  ftand, 
And  heav'ns  eternal  will  proclaim, 
^That  time  (hall  be  no  more. 
V. 
Thus  while  the  labouring  angel  fwell'd  the  founds 

And  rent  the  ikies,  and  (hook  the  ground, 
Up  rofe  th'   Almighty;  round  his  fapphire  feat, 
Adoring  thrones  in  order  fell  ? 
The  leiTer  powers  at  diftance  dwell, 
And  cart  their  glories  down  fucceflive  at  his  feet^ 

Gabriel  the,  great  prepares  his  way, 
Lift  up  your -heads,  eternal  doors,  he  c*ks; 
Th'  eternal  doors  his  word  obey, 
Open,  and  (hoot  celeftial  day 

Upon   the  lower  fkies, 
Heav'ns  mighty  pillars  bow'd  their  head, 
As  their  creator  bid, 

And 


58       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

And  down  Jehovah  rode  from  the  fuperior  fphere, 
A  thoufand  guards  before,  and  myriads  in  the  rear. 
VI. 
His  chariot  was  a  pitchy  cloud, 
The  wheels  befet  with  burning  gems? 
The  winds  in  harnefs  with  the  flames 

Flew  o'er  th'  ethereal  road : 
Down  thro'  his  magazines  he  paft 
Of  hail,  and  ice  and  fleecy  fnow, 
Swift  roll'd  the  triumph,  and  as  fad: 
Did  hail,  and  ice,  in  melted  rivers  flow, 
The  day  was  mingled  with  the  night, 
His  feet  on  folid  darknefs  trod, 

His  radiant  eyes  proclaim'd  the  God, 
And  fcatter'd  dreadful  light; 
He  breath'd,  and  iulphur  ran,  a  fiery  ftream: 
He  fpoke,  and  (tho'  with  unknown  fpeed  he  came) 
Chid  the  flow  temped,  and  the  lagging  flame. 
VII. 
Sinai  receiv'd  his  glorious  flight, 
With   axle  red,  and  glowing  wheel 
Did  the  winged  chariot  light, 
And  riling  fmoke  obfeur'd  the  burning  hill. 
To,  it  mounts  in  curling  waves, 
Lo,  the  gloomy  pride  out-braves 
The  flately  pyramids  of  fire, 
The  pyramids  to  heav'n   afpire, 
And  mix  with  flats,  but  fee  their  gloomy  offspring 

higher. 
So  have  you  feen  ungrateful  ivy  grow 
Round  the  tall  oak  that  fix  fcore  years  has  flood, 

And  proudly  flioot  a  leaf  or  two 
Above  its  kind  fupporter's  utmoft  bough, 
And  glory  there  to  itand  the  loftieft  of  the  wood. 
VIII. 
Forbear,  young  mufe,  forbear; 
The  flovv'ry  things  that  poets   fay,  The 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  Sec.     59 

The  little  arts  of  Simile 

Are  vain  and  ufelefs  here; 
Npr  fhall  the  burning  hill's  of  old 

With  Sinai  be  compar'd, 
"Nor  all  that  lying  Greece  has  told. 
Or  learned  Rome  has  heard; 
JEtna  (hall  be  nam'd-  no  more, 
j£tna,  the  torch  of  Sicily, 
Not  half  fo  high 
Her  lightnings  fly, 
Not  half  fo  loud  her  thunders  roar 
Crofs  the  Sicanian  fea,  to  fright  th'  Italian  more* 
Behold  the  facred  hill;  its  trembling  fpire 
Quakes  at  the  terrors  of  a  fire, 
While  all  below  its  verdant  feet 
Stagger  and  reel  under  th"*  almighty  weight! 
Prefs'd  with  a  greater  than  feign'd  Atlas'  load 
Deep  groan'd  the  mount;  it  never  bore 
Infinity  before, 
It  bow'd,  and  Ihook  beneath  the  burden  of  a  God, 
IX. 
Frefn  horror  feize  the  camp,  defpair, 
And  dying  groans,  torment  the  air, 
And  fhrieks,  and  fwoons,  and  deaths  were  there; 
The  bellowing  thunder,  and  the  lightnings  blaze 

Spread  thro'  the  hofl:  a  wild  amaze; 
Darknefs  on  every  foul,  and  pale  was  every  face; 
■L    Confus'd  and  difmal  were  the  cries, 
Let  JMofes  /peak  or  Ifrael  dies  : 
Mofes  the  Spreading  terror  feels, 
No  more  the  man  of  God  conceals 

His  fhivering  and  furprize: 
Yet,  with  recovering  mind,  commands 
Silence,  and  deep  attention,  thro'  the  Hebrew  bands> 
X. 
Hark!  from  the  center  of  the  flame, 
All  arm'd  and  feather'd  with  the  fame,      Ma- 


<5o     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

Majeftic  founds  break  thro'  the  fmoaky  cloud; 

Sent  from  the  all-creating  tongue, 
A  flight  of  cherubs  guard  the  words  along, 
And  bear  their  fiery  law  to  the  retreating  crowd. 
XI. 
*'  I  am  the  Lord  :  'tis  I  proclaim 
"  That  glorious  and  that  fearful  name, 
"  Thy  God  and  King:  'Twas  I,  that  broke 
"  Thy  bondage,  and  th'  Egyptian  yoke; 
"  Mine  is  the  right  to  fpeak  my  will, 
"  And  thine  the  duty  to  fulfil. 
4t  Adore  no  God  befideme,  to  provoke  mine  eyes: 
*'   Nor   worfhip  me   in  fhapes  and  forms  that  men 

devife; 
"  With  rev'renceufe  my  name,  nor  turn  my  words 

tojeft; 
"  Obferve    my  fabbath    well,  nor  dare  prophane 

my  reft; 
*'  Honour  and  due  obedience,  to  thy  parents  give  ; 
*'  Nor  fpill  theguiltlefsblood,  nor  lettheguilty  live:' 
«  Prefervethy  bodychaite,  andrleeth'unlawfulbed; 
"  Nor  fteal  thy  neighbour's  gold,  his  garment,  or 

his  bread: 
*'  Forbear  to  blaft  his  name  with  falfhood or  deceit; 
"  Nor  let  thy  wifhes  loofe  upon  his  large  eftate. 


Remember  your  Creator,  &c.  Ecclef.  xii. 


CHILDREN  to  your  creator  God, 
Your  early  honours  pay, 
While  vanity  and  youthful   bluod 
Would  tempt  your  thoughts  a  ft  ray. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     6t 
u. 

The  memory  of  his  mighty  name, 

Demands  your  firft  regard, 
Nor  dare  indulge  a  meaner  flame, 
'Till  you  have  lov'd  the  Lord. 
III. 
Be  wife,  and  make  his  favour  fure, 

Before  the  mournful  days, 
When  youth  and  mirth  are  known  no  more, 
And  life  and  flrength  decays. 
IV. 
No  more  the  blefiings  of  a  feaft 

Shall  relifh  on  the  tongue, 
The  heavy  ear  forgets  the  tafte 
And  pleafure  of  a  fbng. 
V. 
Old  age  with  all  her  difmal  train, 

Invades  your  golden  years 
With  fighs  and  groans,  and  raging  painT 
And  death,  that  never  fpares. 
VI. 
What  will  you  do  when  light  departs, 

And  leaves  your  withering  eyes, 
Without  one  beam  to  chear  your  hearts, 
From  the  fuperior  ikies  ? 
VII. 
How  will  you  meet  God's  frowning  brow, 

Or  (land  before  his  feat, 
While  nature's  old  fupporters  bow, 
Nor  bear  their  tott'ring  weight? 
VIII. 
Can  you  expect  your  ^feeble  arms 

Shall  make  a  ftrong  defence, 

When  death   with  terrible  alarms, 

Summons  the  pris'ner  hence? 

F  IX. 


62      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I, 
_,  ix. 

The  filver  bands  of  nature  burft, 

And  let  the  building  fall; 
The  flefh  goes  down  to  mix  with  duft, 

Its  vile  original. 

X. 
Laden  with  guilt,  (a  heavy  load) 

Uncleans'd  and  unforgiv'n, 
The  foul  returns  t'  an  angry  God, 

To  be  fhut  out  from  heav'n. 


Sun,   Moon,   and  Stars,  praife  ye  the 
Lord, 

I. 

FAIREST  of  all  the  lights  above, 
Thou  fun,  wbofe  beams  adorn  the  fpheres, 
And  with  unweary'd  fwiftnefs  move, 
To  form  the  circles  of  our  years; 

II. 
Praife  the  Creator  of  the  Ikies, 
That  drefs'd  thine  orb  in  golden  rays; 
Or  may  the  fun  forget  to  rife, 
If  he  forget  his  Maker's  praife. 

III. 
Thou  reigning  beauty  of  the  night, 
Fair  queen  of  filence,   filver  moon, 
Whofe  gentle  beams  and  borrow'd  light, 
Are  fofter  rivals  of  the  noon  ; 

IV. 
A  rife,  and  to  that  fov'reign  power 
Waxing  and  waning  honours  pay, 
Who  bid  thee  rule  the  dulky  hour, 
And  half  fupply  the  abfent  day. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     63 
v. 

Ye  twinkling  ftars,  who  guild  the  fkies 
When  darknefs  has  its  curtains  drawn, 
Who  keep  your  watch  with  wakeful  eyes,, 
When  bufinefs,  cares,  and  day  are  gone;, 

VI. 
Proclaim  the  glories  of  your  Lord, 
Difpers'd  thro'  all  the  heav'nly  ftreet, 
Whofe  boundlefs  treafures  can  afford 
So  rich  a  pavement  for  his  feet. 

VII. 
Thou  heav'n  of  heav'ns,  fupremely  bright^ 
Fair  palace  of  the  court  divine, 
Where,  with  inimitable  light, 
The  Godhead  condefcends  to  fhine. 

VIII. 
Praife  thou  thy  Great  Inhabitant, 
Who  fcatters  lovely   beams  of  grace 
On  every  angel,  every  faint, 
Nor  veils  the  luftre  of  his  face. 

IX. 
O  God  of  glory,  God  of  love, 
Thou  art  the  fun.  that  makes  our  days  s: 
With  all  thy  mining  works  above, 
Let  earth  and  duft.  attempt  thy  praife. 


The  Welcome  Meffenger* 
I. 

LORD,  when  we  fee  a  faint  of  thine 
Lie  gafping  out  his  breath, 
With  longing  eyes,  and  looks  divine, 
Smiling  and  pleas'd  in  death; 

Fa  m. 


64      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
ii. 

How  we  could  e'en  contend  to  lay 

Our  limbs  upon  that  bed  ! 
We  afk  thine   envoy  to  convey 

Our  fpirits  in  his  ftead. 
III. 
Our  fouls  are  riling  on  the  wind, 

To  venture  in   his  place; 
For  when  grim  death  has  loft  his  fting,. 

He  has  an  angel's  face. 
IV. 
JESUS,  then  purge  my  crimes  away, 

'Tis  guiit  creates  my  fears, 
"Vis  guilt  gives  death  its  fierce  array, 

And  all  the  arms  it  bears. 
V. 
Oh!   if  my  threatning  fins  were  gone., 

And  death  had  loft   his  fting, 
I  could  invite  the  ang^l  on, 

And  chide  his  lazy  wing. 
VI. 
Away  thefe  interpofing  days, 

And  let  the  lovers  meet; 
The  angel  has  a  cold  embrace, 

But  kind,  and  foft,  and  fweet. 
VII. 
I'd  leap  at  once  my  feventy  years, 

I'd  rum  into  his  arms; 
And  lofe  my  breath,  and  all  my  cares,. 

Amidft  thofe  heav'nlv  charms. 
VIII. 
Joyful  I'd  lay  this  body  down, 

And  leave  the  lifelefs  clay, 
Without  a  figh,  without  a  groan, 

And  ftretch  and  foar  away. 

Sincere 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c*     6$ 

Sincere  Praife* 
i. 

ALMIGHTY  Maker,  God! 
How  wondrous  is  thy  name  I 
Thy  glories,  how  diffus'd  abroad 
Thro'  the  creation's  frame! 

II. 
Nature  in  every  dr efs 
Her  humble  homage  pays, 
And  finds  a  thoufand  ways  t'  exprefs 
Thine  undifTembled  praife. 

III. 
In  native  white  and  red 
The  rofe  and  lilly  Hand, 
And  free  from  pride,  their  beauties  fpread, 
To  Ihew  thy  lkilful  hand. 

IV. 
The  lark  mounts  up  the  iky, 
With  unambitious  fong, 
And  bears  her  Maker's  praife  on  high. 
Upon  her  artlefs  tongue. 

V. 
My  foul  would  rife  and  ling 
To  her  Creator  too, 
Fain  would  my  tongue  adore  my  King,. 
And  pay  the  worlhip  due* 

VI. 
But  pride,  that  bufy  fin, 
Spoils  all  that  I  perform ; 
Gurs'd  pride,  that  creeps  fecurely  in,L 
And  fwells  a  haughty  worm. 

'  VIT. 
Thy  glories  I  abate, 
Or  praife  thee  with  defign*, 

F  <3,  Some 


66      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book! 

Some  of  the  favours  I  forget, 
Or  think  the  merit  mine. 

VIII. 
The  very  fongs  I  frame 
Are  faith lefs  to  thy  caufe, 
And  flreal  the  honours  of  thy  name, 
To  build  their  own  applaufe. 

IX. 
Create  my  foul  anew, 
Elfe  all  my  worfhip's  vain; 
This  wretched  heart  will  ne'er  be  true, 
Until  'tis  form'd  again. 
X. 
Defcend,  celeflrial  fire, 
And  feize  me  from  above, 
Melt  me  in  flames  of  pure  defire, 
A  Sacrifice  to  love. 

XI. 
Let  joy  and  worfhip  fpend 
The  remnant  of  my  days, 
And  to  my  .God,  my  foul,  afcend, 
In  fweet  perfuires  of  praife. 

True    Learning. 
Partly  imitated  from  a  French  fonnet  of  M.  Poieret. 


HAPPY  the  feet  that  fhining  Truth  has  led 
With  her  own  hand  to  tread  the  path  fhe  pleafe 
To  fee  her  native  luflrre  round  her  fpread, 

Without  a  vail,  without  a  fhade, 
All  beauty,  and  all  light,  as  in  herfelf  fhe  is. 

II. 
Our  fenfes  cheat  us  with  the  preffing  crowds 
Of  painted  fhapes  they  thruft  upon  the  mind: 

The 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.       6j 

The  truth  they  ft\ew  lies  wra-p'd  in  fev'nfold  mrouds,  , 

Our  fenfes  call  a  thoufand  clouds 
On  unenlighten'd  fouls  and  leave  them  doubly  blind, 

III, 
I  hate  the  dufr  that  fierce  difputers  raife, 
And  lofe  the  mind  in  a  wild  maze  of  thought: 
What  empty  triflings,  and  what  fubtle  ways, 
,  To  fence  and  guard  by  rule  and  rote! 
Qur  God  will  never  charge  us,  That  we  know  them 
not. 

IV. 
Touch,  heavenly  Word,  O  touch  thefe  curious  fouls; 
Since  I  have  heard  but  one  foft  hint  from  Thee, 
From  all  the  vain  opinions  of  the  fchools 

(That  pageantry  of  knowing  fools) 
I  feel  my  powers  releas'd,  and  (land  divinely  free, 

V. 
'Twas  this  almighty  Word  that  all  things  made, 
He  grafps  whole  nature  in  his  fingle  hand; 
All  the  eternal  truths  in  him  are  laid, 

The  ground  of  all  things,  and  their  head, 
The  circle  where  they  move,  and  center  where  they 
ftand. 

VI. 
Without  his  aid  I  have  no  fure  defence, 
From  troops  of  errors  that  befiege  me  round; 
But  he  that  refts  his  reafon  and  his  fenfe 

Fafl  here,  and  never  wanders  hence, 
Unmoveable  he  dwells  upon  unfhaken  ground. 

VII. 
Infinite  Truth,  the  life  of  my  defires, 
Come  from  the  fky,  and  join  thyfelf  to  me; 
I'm   tir'd  with  hearing,  and  this  reading  tires; 

But  never  tir'd  of  telling  Thee, 
'Tis  thy  fair  face  alone  my  fpirit  burns  to  fee. 

VIII, 


68       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

VIII. 

Speak  to  my  foul?  alone,  no  other  hand 
Shall  mark  my  path  out  with   delufive  art: 
All  nature  filent  in  his  prefence  ftand 
Creatures  be  dumb  at  his  command, 
And  leave  his  fingle  voice  to  whifper  to  my  heart.. 
IX. 
Retire,  my  foul,  within  thy  felf  retire, 
Away  from  fenfe  and  every  outward  (how ; 
Now  let  my  thoughts  to  loftier  themes  afpire, 
My  knowledge  now  on  wheels  of  fire 
May  mount  and  fpread  above,  furveying  all  below. 
X. 
The  Lord  grows  lavifh  of  his  heav'nly  light, 
And  pours  whole  floods  on  fuch  a  mind  as  this; 
Fled  from  the  eyes  (he  gains  a  piercing  fight, "" 
She  dives  into  the  infinite. 
And  fees  unutterable  things  in  that  unknown  abyfs. 


True   Wifdom. 

I. 

PRONOUNCE   him  bleft,  my  mufe,  whom 
•wifdom  guides 
In  her  own  path,  to  her  own  heavenly  feat; 
Thro'  ail  the  ftorms  his  foul  fecurely  glides; 
Nor  can  the  tempr  fts,   nor  the  tides, 
That  rife  and  roar  around,  fupplant  his  (leady  feet. 
II. 
Earth,  you  may  let  your  golden  arrows  fly, 
And  feek  in  vain,  a  paflage  to  his  bread, 
Spread  all  your  painted  toys  to  court  his  eye, 
He  fmiles,  and  fees  them  vainly  try 
To  lure  his  foul  afide  from  her  eternal  reft. 

I J  J. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     6g 
in. 

Our  head-fhong  Iufls,  like  a  young  fiery  horfe, 
Start  and  flee  raging  in  a  violent  courfe; 
He  tamesandbreaksthem,  managesandrides  'em, 
Checks  their  career,  and  turns  and  guides  'em, 
And  bids  his  reaibn  bridle  their  licentious  force. 
IV. 
Lord  of  himfelf,  he  rules  his  wildeft  thoughts. 
And  boldly  ac~ts  what  calmly  he  defign'd, 
Whilfl:  he  looks  down  and  pities  human  faults.; 
Nor  can  he  think,  nor  can  he  find 
A  plague  like  reigning  paffion,  and  a  fubjeft  mind* 
V. 
But  oh!  'tis  mighty  toil  to  reach  this  height, 
To  vanquifh  felf  is  a  laborious  art; 

What  manly  courage  tofnftain  the  fight, 
To  bear  the  noble  pain,  and  part 
With  thofe  dear  charming  tempters,  rooted  in  the 
heart! 

VI. 
'Tis  hard  to  (land  when  all  the  pafilons  move, 
Hard  to  awake  the  eye  that  paffion  binds 
To  rend  and  tear  out  this  unhappy  love, 
That  clings  to  clofe  about  our  minds, 
And  where  th'  enchanted  foul  fo  fweet  a  poifon  finds, 
VII. 
Hard;   but  it  may  be  done.   Come  heavenly  fire, 
Come  to  my  breaft,  and  with  one  powerful  ray 
Melt  off  my  lufts,  my  fetters:   I  can  bear 
A  while  to  be  a  tenant  here, 
But  not  be  chain'd  and  prifon'd  in  a  caa;eof  clay. 
VIII. 
Heav'n  is  my  home,  and  I  mud  ufe  my  wings; 
Sublime  above  the  globe  my  flight  afpires  j 
I  have  a  foul  was  made  to  pity  kings, 
And  all  their  little  glitt'ring  things; 
I  have  a  foul  was  made  for  infinite  defires.  IX. 


70     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

IX. 

Loos'd  from  the  earth,  my  heart  is  upward  flown  ; 
Farewel,  my  friends,  and  all  that  once  was  mine; 
Now,  fhould  you  fix  my  feet  on  Csefar's  throne, 
Crown  me,  and  call  the  world  my  own. 
The  gold  that  binds   my  brows  could  ne'er   my  foul 
confine. 

X. 
I  am  the  Lord's,  and  JESUS  is  my  love; 
He,  the  dear  God,  fhall  fill  my  vaft  defire. 
My  flefh  below;  yet  I  can  dwell  above, 
And  nearer  to  my  Saviour  move; 
There  all  my  foul  fhall  center,  all  my  pow'rs  con- 
fpire.  _ 

XL 
Thus  I  with  angels  live;   thus  half  divine 
I  fit  on  high,  nor  mind  inferior  joys; 
Fill'd  with  his  love,  I  feel  that  God  is  mine. 
His  glory  is  my  great  defign, 
That  everlafHng  project  ail  my  thoughts  employs. 


A  Song  to  Creating  Wifdom* 
PART    I. 

ETERNAL  Wisdom,  thee  we  praife, 
Thee  the  creation  fings; 
With  thy  loud  name,  rocks,  hills,  and  feas, 
And  heav'ns  high  palace  rings. 
II. 
Place  me  on  the  bright  wings  of  day 

To  travel  with   the  fun; 
With  what  amaze  (hail   I  furvey 
The  wonders  thou  haft  done? 

III. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.       71 
in. 

Thy  hand  how  wide  it  fpread  the  fky! 

How  glorious  to  behold! 
Ting'd  with  a  blue  of  heavenly  dye, 

And  flarr'd  with  fparkling  gold.  - 
IV. 
There  thou  haft  bid  the  globes  of  light 

Their  endlefs  circles  run ; 
There  the  pale  planet  rules  the  night, 

And  day  obeys  the  fun. 

PART    IT. 
V. 

Downward  I  turn  my  wond'ring  eyes 

On  clouds  and  itorms  below, 
Thofe  under-regions  of  the  Ikies 

Thy  numerous  glories  fhow. 
VI. 
The  noify  winds  fland  ready  there 

Thy  orders  to  obey, 
With  founding  wings  they  fweep  the  air 

To  make  thy  chariot  way. 
VII. 
There,  like  a  trumpet,  loud  and  ftrong, 

Thy  thunder  (hakes  our  coaft; 
While  the  red  lightnings  wave  along, 

The  banners  of  thine  hoft. 
VIII. 
On  the  thin  air,  without  a  prop, 

Hang  fruitful  fhow'rs  around; 
At  thy  command  they  fink,  and  drop 

Their  fatnefs  on  the  ground. 

PART    III. 
IX. 

Now  to  the  earth  I  bend  my  fong, 

And  call:  my  eyes  abroad,  Glancing 


72      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

Glancing  the  Britifh  ifles  along \ 

Blefl  ifles,  confefs  your  God. 
X. 
How  did  his  wondrous  flcill  array, 

Your  fields  in  charming  green; 
A  thoufand  herbs  his  art  difplay, 

A  thoufand  flowers  between ! 
XT. 
Tall  oaks  for  future  navies  grow, 

Fair  Albion's  belt  defence, 
While  corn  and  vines  rejoice  below, 

Thofe  luxuries  of  fenfe. 
XII. 
The  bleating  flocks  his  pafture  feeds: 

And  herds  of  larger  fize, 
That  bellow  thro'  the  Lindian  meads, 

His  bounteous  hand  fupplies. 


PART    IV. 

XIII. 
We  fee  the  Thames  carefs  the  (hores, 

He  guides  her  filver  flood: 
While  angry  Severn  fwells  and  roars, 

Yet  hears  her  ruler  God. 
XIV. 
The  rolling  mountains  of  the  deep 

Obferve  his  flrong  command; 
His  breath  can  raife  the  billows  deep, 

Or  fink  them  to  the  fand, 
XV. 
Amidfl:  thy  watry  kingdoms,  Lord, 

The  finny  nations  play, 
And  fcaly  monfters  at  thy  word, 

Rulh  thro'  the  northern  fea. 

PART 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.     73 

PARTY. 
-     XVI. 
Thy  gloriesblaze  all  nature  round, 

And  ftrike  the  gazing  fight, 
Thro5  fides,  and  feas,  and  folid  ground, 
With  terror  and  delight. 
XVI  f. 
Infinite  ftrengtb  and  equal  (kill, 
Shine  thro'  the  worlds  abroad, 
Our  fouls  with  vaft  amazement  fill, 
And  fpeak  the  builder  God. 
XVIII. 
But  the  fweet  beauties  of  thy  grace 

Our  fofter  pafllons  move; 

Pity  divine  in  JESUS  face 

We  fee,  adore,  and  love. 


GOD'j    Abfolute  Dominion. 
I. 

ORD,  when  my  thoughtful  foul  furveys 
«Lj  Fire,  air  and  earth,  and  ftars  and  feas, 

I  call  them  all  my  flaves; 
Commiffion'd  by  my  Father's  will, 
Poifons  mall  cure,  or  balms  fhall  kill; 

Vernal  funs,  or  Zephyr's  breath, 
May  burn  or  blaft  the  plants  to  death 

That  (harp  December  faves. 

What  can  winds  or  planets  boaft 

But  a  precarious  pow'r  ?  . 
The  fun  is  all  in  darknefs  loft, 
Fro  ft  mall  be  fire,  and  fire  be  froft, 

When  he  appoints  the  hour. 

G  ! 


74      L  YR  IC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
ii. 

Lo,  the  Norwegians  near  the  polar  iky 
Chafe  their  frozen  limbs  with  fnow, 
Their  frozen   limbs  awake  and  glow, 
The  vital  flame  touch'd  with  a  ftrange  fupply 

Rekindles,  for  the  God  of  life  is  nigh  ; 

He  bids  the  vital  flood  in   wonted  circles  flow. 
Cold  fteel  expos'd  to  northern   air, 

Drinks  the  meridian  firry  of  the  midnight  Bear, 
And  burns  th*  unwary  itranger  there. 

III. 
Enquire,  my  foul,  of  ancient  fame, 
Look  back  two  thoufand  years,  and  fee 

'     Th'  AfTyrian  prince  transform'd  a  brute, 
For  boafting  to  be  abfolute: 

Once  to  his  court  the  God  of  Ifrael  came," 
A  King  more  abfolute  than  he. 
I  fee  the  furnace  blaze  with  rage 
Sevenfold  :   I  fee  amidft  the  flame 
Three  Hebrews  of  immortal  name; 

They  move,  they  walk  acrofs  the  burning  (rage 

Unhurt,  and  fearlefs,  while  the  tyrant  flood 
A  ftatue;    fear  congeal'd  his  blood; 
Nor  did  the  raging  element  dare 
Attempt  their  garments,  or  their  hair; 

It  knew  the  Lord  of  nature  there. 

Nature,   compell5 d  by  a  fuperior  caufe, 
Now   breaks  her  own  eternal  laws, 
Now  feems  to  break  them,  and  obeys 
Her  Sovereign   King  in  different  ways. 
Father,   how  bright  thy  glories  fhine! 
How  broad  thy  kingdom,    how  divine! 
Nature,  and  miracle,  and  fate,  and  chance  are  thine. 
IV. 
Hence  from  my  heart,  ye  idols,  flee, 
Ye  founding  names  of  vanity! 

No 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      75 

No  more  my  lips  mall  facrifice 

To  chance  and  nature,  tales  and  lies: 

Creatures  without  a  God  can  yield  me  no  fupplies. 
What  is  the  fun,  or  what  the  made, 
Or -fro ft s,  or  flames,  to  kill  or  fave  ? 

His  favour  is  my  life,  his  lips  pronounce  me  dead; 
And  as  his  awful  dictates  bid, 
Earth  is  my  mother,  or  rry  grave. 

Condefcending  Grace, 
In,  Imitation  of  the  114th  Pfahru 

I. 

*TTHEN.the  Eternal  bows  the  fkies,. 
VV       To  vifit  earthly  things, 
With  fcorn  divine  he  turns  his  eyes 
From  towers  of  haughty  kings; 
II. 
Rides  on  a  cloud  difdainful  by 

A  Sultan',  or  a  Czar, 
Laughs  at  the  worms  that  rife  fo  high^ 
Or  frowns  'em  from  afar;    - 
'III. 
He  bids  his  awful  chariot  roll 

Far  downward  from  the  fkies, 
To  vifit  every  humble  foul, 
With  pleafure  in  his  eyes.. 
IV. 
Why  fhould  the  Lord  that  reigns  above 

Difdain  fb  lofty   kings  ? 
Say,  Lord,  and  why  fuch  looks  of  love 
Upon  filch  worthless  things; 
V. 
Mortals,  be  dumb;  what  creature  dares 
Pifpute  his  awful  will? 

■  G  %  Afk- 


76     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

Afk  no  account  of  his  affairs, 

But  tremble,  and  be  tf  ill. 
VI. 
Juft  like  his  nature  is  his  grace, 

Al)  fovereign,  and  all  free  ; 
Great  God,  how  fearchlefs  are  thy  ways! 

How  deep  thy  judgments  be! 


The  Infinite* 
I. 

SOME  feraph,  lend  your  heavenly  tongue, 
Or  harp  of  golden  firing, 
That  1  may  raiie  a  lofty  fong 
To  our  eternal  king. 

II. 
Thy  names,  how  infinite  they  be! 

Great  Everlasting  One! 
Bouh  ilefs  thy  might  and  majefty, 
And  unconfin'd  thy  throne. 
III. 
Thy  glories   fhine  of  wondrous  fize, 

And  wondrous  large  thy  grace; 
Immortal  day  breaks  from  thine  eyes, 
And  Gabriel  veils  his  face. 
IV. 
Thine  elTence  is  a  vafl  abyfs, 

Which  angels  cannot  found, 
An  ocean  of  infinities 

Where  all  our  thoughts  are  drown'd; 
V. 
The  myfteries  of  creation  lie 
Beneath  enlighten'd  minds, 
Thoughts  can  afcend  above  the  fky, 
And  fly  before  the  winds. 

VI. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &cr,      77 


VI. 

Reafon  may  grafp  the  mafTy  hills, 

And  ftretch   from  pole  to  pole, 
But  half  thy  name  our  fpirit  fills, 

And  overloads  our  foul. 
VII. 
In  vain  our  haughty  reafon  fwells^ 

For  nothing's  found  in  Thee 
But  boundlefs  unconceivables, 

And  vafl  eternity. 


ConfeJJlon  and  Pardon* 


ALAS  my  aking  heart! 
Here  the  keen  torment  lies? 
It  racks  my  waking  hours  with  fmart, 
And  frights  my  flumbring  eyes. 

II. 
Guilt  will  be  hid  no  more, 
My  griefs  take  vent  apace, 
The  crimes  that  blot  my  confcience  o'ex 
Flufli  crimfon  in  my  face. 

III. 
My  forrows,  like  a  flood, 
Impatient  of  reftraint, 
Into  thy  bofom,  O  my  God, 
Pour  out  a  long  complaint. 

IV. 
This  impious  heart  of  mine 
Could  once  defy  the  Lord, 
Could  ri1  fh  with  violence  on  to  fin> 
In  prefence  of  thy  fword. 
G3 


78       LYRIC   POEMS,     Book  L 
v. 

How  often  have  I  flood 
A  rebel  to  the  ikies, 
The  calls,  the  tenders  of  a  God,, 
And  mercy's  loudefr.  cries! 

VI. 
He  offers  all  his  grace, 
And  all  his  heaven  to  me; 
Offers!   But  'tis  to  fenfelefs  brafs, 
That  cannot  feel  nor  fee. 

VII. 
JESUS  the  faviour  (lands 
To  court  me  from  above, 
And  looks  and  fpreads  his  wounded  hands. 
And  ihews  the  prints  of  love. 

VIII. 
But  I,  a  ftupid  fool, 
How  long  have  I   withftood 
The  bleflings  purchas'd  with  his  foul, 
And  paid  for  all  in  blood? 

IX. 
The  heav'nly  dove  came  down 
And  tender'd  me  his  wings  . 
To  mount  me  upward  to  a  crown,, 
And  bright  immortal  things. 

X. 
Lord,  I'm  afham'd  to  fay 
That  I  refus'd  thy  dove, 
And  fent  thy  fpirit  griev'd  away, 
To  his  own  realms  of  love. 

XI. 
Not  all  thine  heav'nly  charms, 
Nor  terrors  of  thy  hand, 
Cquld  force  me  to  lay  down  my  arms, 
And  bow  to  thy  command. 

XIL 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     79 

XII. 
Lord,  'tis  againft  thy  face 
My  fins  like  arrows  rife, 
And  yet,  and  yet  (O  matchlefs  grace!) 
Thy  thunder  filent  lies. 
XIII. 
O  (hall  I  never  feel 
The  meltings  of  thy  love  ? 
Am  I  of  fuch  hell-harden'd  fteel, 
That  mercy  cannot  move? 

XIV. 
Now  for  one  powerful  glance, 
Dear  Saviour,  from  thy  face! 
This  rebel  heart  no  more  withflands,  . 
But  finks  beneath  thy  grace. 

XV. 
O'ercome  by  dying  love  I  fall, 
Here  at  thy  crofs  I  lie; 
And  throw  my  flefh.  my  foul,  my  all, 
And  weep,  and  love,  and  die. 
XVI. 
"  Rife,  fays  the  prince  of  mercy,  rife, 
"  With  joy  and  pity  in  his  eyes; 
M  Rife,  and  behold  my  wounded  veins, 
"  Here  flows  the  blood  to  wafh  thy  ftains. 

XVII. 
"  See  my  great  father  reconciled : " 
He  faid.     And  4e-,   the  father  fmiPd; 
The  joyful  cherubs  clap'd  their  wings, 
And  founded  grace  on  all  their  firings. 


Young 


So      LYRIC    POEMS,      Book  L 

Icz/tf^  Tkfcw  a;zi  Maidens,  Old  Men  and 
Babes,  praife  ye  the  Lord,  Pfal. 
cxlviii.    12. 

T. 

SONS  of  Adam  bold  and  young, 
In  the  wild  mazes  of  whofe  veins 
A  flood  of  fiery  vigour  reigns, 
And  wields  your  active  limbs,  with  hardy  finews 
ftrung; 
Fall  proftrate  at  the  eternal  throne, 
Whence  your  precarious  povv'rs  depend; 
Nor  fwell  as  if  your  Jives  were  all  your  own, 

But  choofe  your  Maker  for  your  friend; 
His  favour  is  your  life,   his  arm  is  your  fupport, 
His  arm  can  ftretch  your  days,  or  cut  your  minutes 
lhort. 

II. 
Virgins,  who  roll  your  artful  eyes, 
And  fhoot  delicious  danger  thence; 
Swift  the  lovely  lightning  flies, 
And  melts  our  reafon  down  to  fenfe; 
Boafl;  not  of  thofe  withering  charms 
That  mufl:  yield  their  youthful  grace 
To  age  and  wrinkles,  earth  and  worms; 
But  love  the  author  of  your  fmiling  face; 
That  heavenly  bridegroom  claims  your  blooming 
hours; 
O  make  it  your  perpetual  care 
To  pleafe  that  everlafting  fair; 
His  beauties  are  the  fun,  and  but  the  (hade  is  yours. 
III. 
Infants,  whofe  different  deftinies 
Are  wove  with  threads  of  different  fize; 

But 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.        8-i 

But  from  the  fame  fpring-tide  of  tears, 
Commence  your  hopes,  and  joys  and  fears, 
(A  tedious  train!)  and  date  your  following  years; 
Break  your  firft  filence  in  his  praife 

Who  wrought  your  wondrous  frame: 
With  founds  of  tendered  accent  raife 

Young  honours  to  his  na'me ; 
And  confecrate  your  early  days 
To  know  the  pow'r  fupreme. 

IV. 
Ye  heads  of  venerable  age, 
Juft  marching  off  the  mortal  ftage, 
Fathers,  whofe  vital  threads  are  fpun; 
As  long  as  e'er  the  glafs  of  life  would  run, 

Adore  the  hand  that  led  your  way 
Thro'  flow'ry  fields  a  fair  long  fummer's  day; 
Gafp  out  your  foul  in  praifes  to  .the  fovereign  pow'r 
That  fet  your  weft  fo  diftant  from  your  dawning 
hour. 


Flying  Fowl  and  creeping  Things,  praife 

ye  the  Lord,  Pfal.  clxviii.   10. 

I. 

SWEET  flocks,  whofe  foft  ennamel'd  wing 
Swift  and  gently  cleaves  the  fky; 
Whofe  charming  notes  addrefs  the  fpring 
With  an  artlefs  harmony. 
Lovely  minftrels  of  the  field, 
Who  in   leafy  madows  fit, 
And  your  wondrous  ftiuctures  build, 
Awake  your  tuneful  voices  with  the  dawning  light 5 
To  nature's- God  your  firft  devotions  pay, 

E'er  you  falute  the  rifing  day, 
'Tis  he  calls  up  the  fun,  and  gives  him  every  ray. 

Ilk 


g2      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  L 
ii. 

Serpents,  who  o'er  the  meadows  Aide, 
And  wear  upon  your  mining  back 
Num'rous  ranks  of  gaudy  pride, 
Which  thoufand  mingling  colours  make  ,* 
.Let  the  fierce  glances  of  your  eyes 
Rebate  their  baleful  fire  : 
In  harmlefs  play  twifr.  and  unfold 
The  volumes  of  your  fcaly  gold  : 
That  rich  embroidery  of  your  gay  attire, 
Proclaims  your  maker  kind  and  wife. 

III. 
Infecls  and  mites,  of  mean  degree, 
That  (warm  in  Myriads  o'er  the  land, 
Moulded  by  wifdom's  artful  hand, 
And  curl'd  and  painted  with  a  various  dye  i 
In  your  innumerable  forms 
Praife  him  that  wears  th'  ethereal  crown, 
And  bends  his  lofty  counfels  down 
To  despicable  worms. 

The  Comparifon  and  Complaint.. 

I. 

INFINITE  power,  eternal  Lord, 
How  Sovereign  is  thy  hand! 
All   nature  rofe  t'  obey  thy   word, 
And  moves  at  thy  command. 
II. 
With  fteady  courfe  thy  fhining  fun; 

Keeps  his  appointed  way; 
And  all  the  hours  obedient  run. 
The  circle  of  the  day. 
IIL 
But,  ah !  how  wide  my  fpirit  flies, 

And  wanders  from  her  Gocl  flfy 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      83 

My  foul  forgets  the  heavenly  prize, 

And  treads  the  downward-road,, 
IV. 
The  raging  fire,  and  ftormy  fea, 

Perform  thine  awful  will, 
And  every  beaft  and  every  tree, 

Thy  great     defigns  fulfil: 

V'  .4  v 

While  my  wild  pafllons  rage  within, 

Nor  thy  commands  obey; 

And-  flefh  and  fenfe,  enflav'd  to  fin, 

Draw  my  bed  thoughts  away. 

VI. 

Shall  creatures  of  a  meaner  frame 

Pay  all  their  dues  to  thee ; 

Creatures,  that  never  knew  thy  name. 

That  never  lov'd  like  me!? 

VII. 

Great  Gob  create  my  foul  anew, 

Conform  my  heart  to  thine, 

Melt  down   my  will,  and  let  it  flow, 

And  take  the  mould  divine, 

VIII. 

Seize  my  whole  frame  into  thy  hand; 

Here  all  my  pow'rs  I  bring; 

Manage  the  wheels  by  thy  command, 

And  govern  every  fp ring. 

IX. 

Then  fhall  my  feet  no  more  depart, 

Nor  wandring  fenfes  rove; 

Devotion  fhall  be  all  my  heart, 

And  all  my  paffions  love. 

X. 

Then  not  the  fun  fhall  more  than  I 

His  maker's  law  perform, 

Nor  travel  fwifter  thro'  the  fky, 

Nor  with  a  zeal  fo  warm.  ,  God 


84      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

God  Supreme  and  Self-fufficient. 
i. 

WHAT  is  our  God,  or  what  his  name, 
Nor  men  can  learn,  nor  angels  teach; 
He  dwells  conceal'd  in  radiant  flame, 
Where  neither  eyes  nor  thoughts  can  reach. 

II. 
The  fpacious  worlds  of  heav'nly  light, 
Compar'd  with   him,  how  Ihort    they  fall! 
They  are  too  dark,   and  he  too  bright, 
Nothing  are  they,  and  God  is  all. 

111. 
He  fpoke  the  wondrous  word,  and  lo! 
Creation  tofe  at  his  command  : 
Whirlwinds  and  feas  their  limits  know, 
Bound  in  the  hollow  of  his  hand, 

IV. 
There  refts  the  earth,  there  roll  the  fpheres, 
There  nature  leans,  and  feels  her  prop: 
But  his  own  felf-fufficience  bears 
The  weight  of  his  own  glories  up. 

V. 
The  tide  of  creatures  ebbs  and  flows, 
Meafuring  their  changes  by  the  moon  : 
No  ebb  his  fea  of  glory  knows; 
His  age  is  one  eternal  noon. 

VI. 
Then  fly,  my  fong,  an  endlefs  round, 
The  lofty  tune  let'  Michaei  raife; 
All  nature  dwell  upon  the  found, 
But  we  can  ne'er  fulfil* the  praife. 


JESUS 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     8 

JESUS  the  only  Saviour. 
I. 

ADAM,  our  father  and  our  head 
Tranfgreft;  and  juftice  doom'd  us  deads 
The  fiery  law  fpeaks  all  defpair, 
There's  no  reprieve,  nor  pardon  there. 

II. 
Call  a  bright  council  in  the  fides; 
*'  Seraphs  the  mighty  and  the  wife, 
"  Say,   what  expedient  can  you  give, 
*'  That  fin  be  damn'd,  and  finners  live? 

III. 
te  Speak  are  you  ftrong  to  bear  the  load, 
""  The  weighty  vengeance  of  a  God? 
"  Which  of  you  loves  our  wretched  race, 
"  Or  dares  to  venture  in  our  place?" 

IV. 
In  vain  we  aflc;  for  all  around 
Stands  filence  thro'  the  heavenly  ground: 
There's  not  a  glorious  mind  above 
Has  half  the  -ftrength,  or  half  the  love, 

V. 
But,  O  unutterable  grace! 
Th'  eternal  SON  takes  Adam's  place: 
Down  to  our  world  the  faviour  flies, 
Stretches  his  naked  arms,  and  dies. 

VI. 
Juftice  was  pleas'd  to  bruife  the  God, 
And  pay  its  wrongs  with  heavenly  blood; 
What  unknown  racks  and  pangs  he  bore-l 
Then  rofe :  the  law  could  afk  no  more. 

VII. 
Amazing  work!  look  down,  ye  fkies, 
Wonder  and  gaze  with  all  your  eyes; 

H  Ye 


86       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

Ye  heavenly  thrones,  floop  from  above, 
And  bow  to  this  myfterious  love. 

VIII. 
See,  how  they  bend!  See,  how  they  look! 
Long  they  had  read  th'  eternal  book, 
And  ftudied  dark  decrees  in  vain, 
The  crofs  and  Calvary  makes  them  plain. 

IX. 
Now  they  are  flruck  with  deep  amaze, 
Each  with  his  wings  conceals  his  face; 
Nor  clap  their  founding  plumes,  and  cry, 
The  -wijdom  of  a  DEITY! 

X. 
Low  they  adore  th'  Incarnate  Son, 
And  fing  the  glories  he  hath   won; 
Sing  how  he  broke  our  iron  chains, 
How  deep  he  funk,  how  high  he  reigns. 

XI. 
Triumph  and  reign,  victorious  Lord, 
By  all  thy  flaming  hofts  ador'd; 
And  fay,   dear  Conqueror,  fay,  how"long, 
E'er  we  (hall  rife  to  join  their  fong? 

XII. 
Lo,  from  afar  the  promis'd  day 
Shines  with  a  well-diftinguiflied  ray; 
But  my  wing'd  paflion   hardly  bears 
Thefe  lengths  of  How  delaying  years. 

XIII. 
Send  down  a  chariot  from  above, 
With   fiery  wheels,  and  pav'd  with  love; 
Raife  me  beyond  th'  ethereal  blue, 
To  fing  and  love  as  angels  do. 


Looking 


Sacred' to  Devotion,  &c.      87 


Looking    Upward, 
I. 

H^HE  heavens  invite  mine  eye, 
JL       The  (tars  falute  me  round: 
Father,  I  blufh,  1  mourn  to  lie 
Thus  groveling  on  the  ground. 

II. 
My  warmer  fpirits  move, 
And  make  attempts  to  fly; 
I  wifh  aloud  for  wings  of  love 
To  raife  me  fwift  and  high. 

III. 
Beyond  thofe  cryftal  vaults, 
And  all  their  fparkling  balls; 
They're  but  the  porches  to  thy  courts,. 
And  paintings  of  thy  walls. 

IV. 
Vain  world,  farewel  to  you; 
Heaven  is  my  native  air; 
I  bid  my  friends  a  fhort  adieu, 
Impatient  to  be  there. 
V. 
-     I   feel  my  powers  releaft 

From  their  old  flefnly  clod; 
Fair  guardian,  bear  me  up  in  hafte 
And  fet  me  near  ray  God. 

Christ    dying,   ri/ing,  and  reigning. 
I, 

HE  dies!  the  heav'nly  lover  dies! 
The  tidings  ftrike  a  doleful  found 
On  my  poor  heart-ilrings :  deep  he  lies 
In  the  cold  caverns  of  the  ground. 

Jrt  %,  I*. 


88.   LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  L 

IT. 

Ccme,  faints,  and  drop  a  tear  or  two 
On  the  dear  bofom  of  your  God, 
He  ftied  a  thoufand  drops  for  you, 
A  thoufand  drops  of  richer  blood. 

III. 
Here's  love  and  grief  beyond  degree, 
The  Lord  of  glory  dies  for  men.1' 
But  lo,  what  fuddtn  joys  I  fee ! 
JESUS  the  dead  revives  again. 

IV. 
The  rifing  Gqd  forfakes  the^  tomb,, 
Up  to  his  father's  court  he  flies; 
Cherubic   leri.>ns  guard  him   home, 
And  fhout  him  welcome  to  the  Ikies. 

V. 
Break  off  your  tears,  ye  faints,  and  tell 
How  high  our  great  deliverer  reigns; 
Sing  how  he  fpoil'd   the  hods  of  hell, 
And  led  the  moniler  death  in  chains. 

VI. 
Say,  Live  for  ever,  wondrous  king  ! 
Bom  to  redeem,  and  ftrong  to  fave ! 
Then  afk  the  monfter,   Where's  the  fling? 
And  ivhereys  thy  viftory,  hoajling  grave? 


The   GOD   of  Thunder. 
I. 

OThe  immenfe,  the  amazing  height, 
The  boundlefs  grandeur  of  our  God, 
Who  treads  the  worlds  beneath  his  feet, 
And  fways  the  nations  with  his  nod. 

II. 
He  fpeaks;  and  lo,  all  nature  fhakes, 
HeavVs  everlafling  pillows  bow;  He 


Sacred  'to  De  to  tton,   &c.       8$ 

He  rends  the  clouds  with  hideous  cracks, 
And  fhoots  his  fiery  arrows  through. 

III. 
Well,  let  the  nations  dart  and  fly 
At  the  blue  lightning's    horrid  glare, 
AtheifU  and  emperors  fhrink  and  die, 
When  flame  and  noife  torment  the  air- 

IV. 
Let  noife  and  flame  confound  the  flues, 
And  drown  the  fpacious  realms  below, 
Yet  will  we  fing  the  Thunderer's  praifc,, 
And  fend  our  loud  Hofannas  through. 

V. 
Celeftial  King,  thy  blazing  power,    - 
Kindles  our  hearts  to  flaming  joys, 
We  ihout  to  hear  thy  thunders  roar, 
And  echo  to  our  father's  voice. 

VI. 
Thus  fhall  the  God  our  Saviour  come, 
And  lightnings  round  his  chariot  play, 
Ye  lightnings,  fly  to  make  him  room, 
Ye  glorious  ftorms,  prepare  his  way. 

The  Day  of  Judgment* 

An  ODE:  Attempted  in  Englifh  Sapphick. 

WHEN  the  fierce  north  wind  with  his  airy  forces 
Rears  up  the  Baltick  to  a  foaming  fury: 
And  the  red  lightning,  with  a  ftorm  of  hail  comes 
Rulhing  amain  down, 
II. 
How  the  poor  failors  ftand  amaz'd,  and  tremble  ! 
While  the  hoarfe  thunder,  like  a  bloody  trumpet,, 
Roars  a  io«.d  onfet  to  the  gaping  waters 

Quick  to  devour  them. 
H  3  HI*; 


oo      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
in. 

Such  fhall  the  noife  be,  and  the  wild  diforder, 
(If  things  eternal  may  be  like  thefe  earthly) 
Such  the  dire  terror  when  the  great  archangel 

Shakes  the  creation. 
IV. 
Tears  the  flrong  pillars  of  the  vault  of  heaven, 
Breaks  up  old  marble,  the  repofe  of  princes; 
See  the  graves  open,  and  the  bones  arifing, 

Flames  all  around  'em. 
V. 
Hark,  the  fiirill  outcries  of  the  guilty  wretches! 
Lively  bright  horror,  and  amazing  anguifh, 
Stare  thro'  their  eye-lids  while  the  living  worm  lies 
Gnawing  within  them. 
VI.    * 
Thoughts  like  old  vultures,  prey  upon    their  heart 

firings, 
And  the  fmart -twinges,  when  the  eye   beholds  the 
.Lofty  judge  frowning,  and  a  flood  of  vengeance 

Rolling  afore  him. 
VII. 
Hopelefs  immortals!  how  they  fcream  and  (hiverj 
While  devils  pufh  them  to  the  pit  wide-yawning 
Hideous  and  gloomy,  to  receive  them  headlong 

Down  to  the  centre. 
VIII. 
Stop  here  my  fancy:   (all  away  ye  horrid 
Doleful  ideas,)  come  arife  to  JESUS, 
How  he  fits  God-like!  and  the  faints  around  him; 
Thron'd  yet  adoring 
IX. 
O  may  I  fit  there  when  he  comes  triumphant, 
Dooming  the  nations!  then  afcend  to  glory, 
While  our  hoiannas  all  along  the  pafTage 

Shout  the  redeemer.. 
The. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  8cc*     91 

The  Song  of  Angels  above. 
I. 

EARTH  has  detain'd  me  prifoner   long, 
And  I'm  grown  weary  now  : 
My  heart,  rry  hand,  my  ear,  my  tongue, 
There's  nothing  here   for  you. 
II. 
Tir'd  in  my  thoughts  I  ftretch  me  down^ 

And  upward  glance  mine  eyes. 
Upward   (my  father)  to  thy  throne, 
And  to  my  native  Ikies. 
,  III. 

There  the  dear  man   my  faviour  fits, 

The  God,  how  bright  he  fbinesl 
And  fcatters  infinite  delights. 
On  ail  the  happy  minds. 
IV. 
Seraphs  with  elevated  (trains 

Circle  the  throne  around, 
And  move  and  charm  the  (tarry  plaint 
With  an   immortal  found. 
V. 
JESUS  the  Lord,  their  harps  employs,. 

JESUS   my  love  they  fing, 
JESUS  the   name  of  both  our  joys 
Sounds  fweet  from  every  firing. 
VI. 
Hark  how  beyond  the  narrow  bounds 

Of  time  and  fpace  they  run, 
And  fpeak   in  mod  majeftick  founds, 
The  Godhead  of  the  Son. 
VII. 
How  on  the  father's  breaft  he  lay, 
The  darling  of  his  foul, 

Infinite 


92     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

Infinite  years  before  the  day 
Or  heavens  began  to  roll. 
VIII. 
And  now  they  fink  the  lofty  tone, 

And  gentler  notes  they  play, 
And  bring  th'  eternal   Godhead  down 
To  dwell  in  humble  clay. 
IX. 
O  facred   Beauties  of  the  Man! 

(The  God  refides  within) 
His  fltfh  all  pure,   without  a  (lain, 
-  His  foul  without  a  fin. 
X. 
Then,  how  he  look'd,  and  how  he  fmil'd^. 

What  wondrous  things  he  faid ! 
Sweet  cherubs,  ftav,  dwell  here  a  while, 
And  tell  what  JESUS  did. 
XI. 
At  his  command  the  blind  awake, 

And  feel  the  gladfom   rays; 
He  bids  the  dumb  attempt  to  fpeak,. 
They  try  their  tongues  in  praife. 
XII. 
He  fhed  a  thoufand  blelTings  round 

Wh  re-e'er  he  turn'd   his  eye: 
He  fpoke,   and  at  the  fovereign  found 
The  hellifh  legions  fly. 
XIII. 
Thus  while  with  unambitious  ftrife 

Th'  ethereal   minftrels  rove 
Thro'  all  the  labours  of  his  life, 
And  wonders  of  his  love. 
XiV. 
In  the  full  choir  a  broken  firing 
Groans  with   a  ftrange  furprize; 
The  reft  in  filence  mourn   their  king, 
That  bleeds,  and  loves,  and  dies.  XV. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     93 

xv. 

Seraph  and  faint  with  drooping  wings, 

Geafe  their  harmonious  breath; 
No  blooming  trees,  nor  bubbling  fprings, 

While  JESUS  deeps  in  death. 
XVI, 
Then  all  at  once  to  living  ftrains 

They  fummon  every  chord, 
Break  up  the  tomb,  and  burft  his  chains, 

And  fhew  their  rifing  Lord. 
XVII. 
Around  the  flaming  army  throngs 

To  guard  him  to  the  fkies, 
With  loud  Hofannaes  on  their  tongues, 

And  triumph  in  their  eyes. 
XVIII. 
In  awful  ftate  the  conquering  God 

Afcends  his  mining  throne, 
While  tuneful  angels  found  abroad 

The  vi&'ries  he  has  won. 
XIX. 
Now  let  me  rife,  and  join  their  fong, 

And  be  an   an  angel  too; 
My  heart,  my  hand,  my  ear,  my  tongue, 

Here's  joyful  work  for  you. 
XX. 
I  would  begin  the  mufick  here, 

And  Co  my  foul  fhould  rife  : 
Ob  for  fome  heavenly  notes  to  bear 

My  fpiric  to  the  fkies! 

XXI. 
There,  ye  that  love  my  Saviour,  fit, 

There  I  would  fain  have  place, 
Amongft  your  thrones,  or  at  your  feet, 

So  1  might  fee  his  face. 

XXI  & 


94     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

XXII. 

I  am  confin'd  to  earth  no  more, 

But  mount  in  hafte  above, 
To  blefs  the  God  that  I  adore, 

And  fing  the  Man  *I  love. 

Fire,   Air,   Earth,  and  Sea,  praife  ye 

the  Lord. 

1/ 

JJARTH,  thou  great  footftool  of  our  God 

Who  reigns  on  high;  thou  fruitful  fource 
Of  all  our  raiment,   life  and  food; 
Our  houfe,  our  parent,  and  our  nurfe; 
Mighty  Stage  of  mortal  fcenes, 
Drefl:  with  ftrong  and  gay  machines, 
Hung  with   golden  lamps  around; 
(And  flowry  carpets  fpread  the  ground) 
Thou  bulky  globe,  prodigious  mafs, 
That  hangs  unpillar'd  in   an  empty  fpace! 
While  thy  unwieldy  weight  refts  on  the  feeble  air, 
Blefs  that  almighty  word  that  fix'd  and  holds  thee 
there. 

II. 
Fire,  thou  fwift  herald  of  his  face, 
"Whofe  glorious  rage,  at  his  command, 
Levels  a  palace  with  the  fand, 
Blending  the  lofty  fpires  in  ruin  with  the  bafe : 
^Ye   heav'nly  flames,  that  finge  the  air, 
Artillery  of  a  jealous  Goo, 
Bright  arrows  that  his  founding  quivers  bear 

To  fcatter  deaths  abroad; 
Lightnings,  adore  the  fovereign  arm  that  flings 
His  vengeance,  and  your  fires,  upon  the  heads  of 
kings. 

III. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.     o$ 
in. 

Thou  vital  clement,  the  Air, 

Whofe  boundlefs  magazines  of  breath 

Our  fainting  frame  of  life  repair, 

And  fave  the  bubble   man  from  the  cold  arms    of 
death:' 

And  ye,  whofe  vital  moifture  yields 
Life's  purple  ftream  a  frefh  fupply; 

Sweet  waters  wandring  thro'  the  flow'ry  fields, 
Or  dropping  from  the  Iky  ; 

Confefs  the  pow'r  whofe  all-fufficient  name 

Nor   needs  your  aid  to  build,  or  to  fupport  our 
frame. 

IV. 
Now  the  rude  air,   with  noify  force, 
.Beats  up  and  fwells  the  angry  fea, 
They  join  to  make  our  lives  a  prey, 
And  fweep  the  failors  hopes  away, 

Vain  hopes,  to  reach  their  kindred  on  the  fhores! 
JLo,  the  wild  feas  and  furging  waves 
Gape  hideous  in  a  thoufand  graves  : 

Be  ftill,  ye  floods,  and  know  your  bounds  of  fand, 
Ye  ftorms,  adore  your  matter's  hand; 

The  winds  are  in  his  fift,  the  waves  at  his  command, 
V. 
From  the  eternal  emptinefs 
His  fruitful  word,  by  fecret  fprings 
Drew  the  whole  harmony  of  things 
That  form  this  noble  univerfe : 
Old  nothing  knew  his  pow'rful  hand, 
Scarce  had  he  fpoke  his  full  command,     . 

Fire,  air,  and  earth,  and  fea,  heard  the  creating  call, 

And  leap'd  from  empty  nothing  to  this  beauteous  all; 
And  ftill  they  dance,  and  ftill  obey 

The  orders  they  receiv'd  the  great  creation-day. 

The 


oo~       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
The  Farewell. 


DEAD  be  my  heart  to  all  below,- 
To  mortal  joys  and  mortal  cares 
To  fenfual  blifs  that  charms  us  fo 
Be  dark,  my  eyes,  and  deaf,  my  ears. 

II. 
Here  I  renounce  my  carnal  tafte 
Of  the  fair  fruit  that  fmners  prize: 
Their  paradife  (hall  never  wafte 
One  thought  of  mine,  but  to  defpife. 

III. 
All  earthly  joys  are  overweigh'd 
With  mountains  of  vexatious  care ; 
And  where's  the  Tweet  that  is  not  laid 
A  bait  to  Tome  deftructive  fnare  ? 

IV. 
Be  gone  for  ever,  mortal  things! 
Thou  mighty  mole-hill  earth,  farewell! 
Angels  afpire  on  lofty  wings, 
And  leave  the  globe  for  ants  to  dwell. 

V. 
Come  heaven  and  fill  my  vaft  defires, 
My  foul  purfues  the  fovereign  good; 
She  was  all  made  of  heavenly  fires, 
Nor  can  fhe  live  on  meaner  food. 


God   only  known   to  himfelf. 
I. 

QTAND  and  adore!  how  glorious  He 
O  That  dwells  in  bright  eternity! 
We  gaze,  and  we  confound  our  fight 
Fking'd  in  th'  abyfs  of  dazzling  light. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     97 
11. 

Thou  Sacred  One,  Almighty  Three, 
Great  Everlafting  Mystery, 
What  lofty  numbers  mall  we  frame 
Equal  to  thy  tremendous  name? 

III. 
Seraphs,  the  nearefl:  to  the  throne, 
Begin,  and  fpeak  the  Great  Unknown: 
Attempt  the  fong,  wind  up  your  firings, 
To  notes  untry'd,  and  boundlefs  things. 

IV. 
You,  whofe  capacious  pow'rs  furvey 
Largely  beyond  our  eyes  of  clay : 
Yet  what  a  narrow  portion  too 
Is  feen,  or  known,  or  thought  by  you  I 

V. 
How  flat  your  higheft  praifes  fall 
Below  th'  immenie  Original! 
Weak  creatures  we,  that  ftrive  in  vain 
To  reach  an  uncreated  drain  ! 

VI. 
Great  God,  forgive  our  feeble  lays, 
Sound  out  thine  own   eternal  praife; 
A  fong  fo  vaftj  a  theme  fo  huh, 
Calls  for  the  voice  that  tun'd-the  Iky. 


Pardon  and  Santlijifation, 
I. 

MY  crimes  awake;  and  hideous  fear 
Diftrafts  my  reftlefs  mind, 
Guilt  meets  my  eyes  with  horrid  glare. 
And  hell  purfues  behind. 
I 


p8       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
ii. 

Almighty  vengeance  frowns  on  high, 

And  flames  array  the  throne  j 
While  thunder  murmurs  round  the  iky, 

Impatient  to  be  gone. 
III. 
Where  (hall  I  hide  this  noxious  head; 

Can  rocks  or  mountains  fave  ? 
Or  fhall  I  wrap  me  in  the  lhade 

Of  midnight  and  the  grave? 
IV. 
Is  there  no  fhelter  from  the  eye 

Of  a  revenging  God  ? 
JESUS,  to  thy  dear  wounds  I  fly, 

Bedew  me  with   thy  blood. 
V. 
Thofe  guardian  drops  my  foul  fecure, 

And  wafh  away  my  fin; 
Eternal  juftice  frowns  no  more, 

And  confcience  fmiles  within. 
VI. 
I  blefs  that  wondrous  purple  dream 

That  whitens  every  ftain ; 
Yet  is  my  foul  but  half  redeem'd, 

If  fin  the  tyrant  reign. 
VII. 
Lord,  blaft  his  empire  with  thy  breath, 

That  curfed  throne   mud  fall; 
Ye  flattering  plagues,   that  work  my  death, 

Fly,  for  I  hate  you  all. 


Sovereignty 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     99 

Sovereignty  and  Grace, 

I. 

THE  Lord!  how  fearful  is  his  name? 
How  wide  is  his  command? 
Nature,  with  all  her  moving  frame, 
Refts  on  his  mighty  hand. 
II. 
Immortal  glory  forms  his  throne, 

And  light  his  awful  robe; 
"Whilft  with  a  fmile,  or  with  a  frown, 
He  manages  the  globe. 
III. 
A  word  of  his  almighty  breath 

Can  fwell  or  link  the  feas; 
Build  the  vail  empires  of  the  earth, 
Or  break  them  as  he  pleafe. 
IV. 
Adoring  angels  round  him  fall 

In  all  their  fnining  forms, 
His  fovereign  eye  looks  thro'  them  al!, 
And  pities  mortal  worms. 
V. 
His  bowels,  to  our  worthlefs  race, 

In  fweet  companion  move; 
He  cloaths  his  looks  with  fofttft  grace, 
And  takes  his  title,  love. 
VI. 
Now  let  the  Lord  for  ever  reign, 

And  fway  us  as  he  will, 
Sick,  or  in  health,  in  eafe,  or  pain, 
We  are  his  favourites  Hill. 
VIT. 
No. more  ihall  peevifh  paflion  rife, 
The  tongue  no  more  complain} 

I  a  'Tis 


ioo        LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

'Tis  fovereign  love  that  lends  our  joys, 
And  love  relumes  again. 

The   Law   and  Go/pel. 
I. 

"   /"^URST  be  the  man,  for  ever  curfr, 

VJ   "  That  doth  one  wilful  fin  commit 5 
*?  Death  and  damnation  for  the  firft, 
"  Without  relief,  and  infinite. 

II. 
Thus  Sinai  roars;  and  round  the  earth 
Thunder,  and  fire,  and  vengeance  flings j 
But  JESUS,   thy  dear  gafping  breath, 
And  Calvary,  fay  gentler  things. 

III. 
"  Pardon,  and  grace,  and  boundlefs  love^ 
"   Streaming  along  a  Saviour's  blood, 
"  And  life,  and  joys,  and  crowns  above, 
"  Dear-purchas'd  bv  a  bleeding  God. 

IV. 
Hark,  how  he  prays,  (the  charming  found 
Dwells  on    his  dying  lips)  Forgive; 
And  every  groan,  and  gaping  wound, 
Criej,  "  Father,  let  the  rebels  live. 

V. 
Go.   you  that  reft  upon  the  law, 
And  toil,  and  feek  falvation  there, 
Look  to  the  flames  that  Mofes  faw, 
And  fhrink,  and  tremble,  and  defpair. 

VI. 
But   I'll  retire  beneath   the  crofs, 
Saviour,  at  thy  dear  feet  1   lie; 
And  the  keen  fword  that  juftice  draws, 
Flaming  and  red,  Mali  pafs  me  by. 

Seeking 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.      ioi 
Seeking  a  divine  Calm  in  a  rejllefs  World. 

O  mens,  quse  ftabili  fata  regis  vice,  Sec. 

Cafimire,  Book  III.   Ode  Z%, 

I. 

ETERNAL  mind,  who  rul'ft  the  fates 
Of  dying  realms,  and  riling  ftates, 
With  one  unchang'd  decree, 
While  we  admire  thy  vafl  affairs, 
Say,   Can  our  little  trifling  cares 
Afford  a  fmile  to  thee  ? 
II. 
Thou  fcattereft  honours,  crowns  and  gold; 
We  fly  to  feize,  and  fight  to  hold 

The  bubbles   and  the  ore: 
So  emmets  ftruggle  for  a  grain; 
So  boys  their  petty  wars  maintain 
For  fhells  upon  the  fhore. 
III. 
Here  a  vain  man  his  fcepter  breaks, 
The  next  a  broken  fcepter  takes, 

And  warriors  win  and  lofe ; 
This  rolling  world  will  never  frand, 
Plunder'd  and  fnatch'd  from  hand  to  hand, 
As  power  decays  or  grows. 
IV. 
Earth's  but  an  atom :  greedy  fwords 
Carve  it  amongfl  a  thoufand  lords, 

And  yet  they  can't  agree; 
Let  greedy  fwords  ftill  fight  and  flay, 
I  can  be  poor;  but,  Lord,  I  pray 
To  fit  and  fmile  with  thee. 


13 


Happy 


102        LYRIC    P0EMS9     Book  I. 

Happy  Frailty. 
I. 

"'  TTOW  meanly  dwells  th'  immortal  mind*' 

XjL     ct  How  vile  thefe  bodies  are! 
"  Why  was  a  clod  of  earth  defign'd 
"  T'  enclofe  a  heavenly  ftar? 
II. 
*'  Weak  cottage  where  our  fouls  refide! 

"  This  fiefh  a  tott'ring  wall; 
"  With  frightful  breaches  gaping  wide 
"  The  buHding  bends  to  fall. 
III. 
"  All  round  it  ftorms  of  trouble  blow, 

"  And  waves  of  forrow  roll ; 
"  Cold  waves  and  winter  ftorms  beat  through ,,. 
"  And  pain  the  tenant-foul. 
IV. 
"  Alas  I  how  frail  our  ftate!"  faid  I; 

And  thus  went  mourning  on, 
Till  fudden  from  the  cleaving  iky 
A  gleam  of  glory  fhone. 
V. 
My  foul  all  felt  the  glory  come, 

And  breath'd  her  native  air; 
Then  fhe  remember'd  heaven  her  home, 
And  fhe  a  prifoner  here. 
VI. 
Straight  fhe  began  to  change  her  key, 

And  joyful  in  her  pains. 
She  fung  the  frailty  of  her  clay 
In  pleafurable  (trains. 

VII. 
"  How  weak  the  Pris'n  is  where  I  dwell! 
41  Fiefh  but  a  tottering  wall. 

«  The 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c,     103 

*'  The  breaches  chearfully  foretell, 

«  The  houfe  mull  fliortly  fall. 
VIII. 
*'  No  more,  my  friends,  fhall  I  complain^ 

"  Tho'  all  my  heart-firings  ake; 
"  Welcome  difeafe,  and  every   pain, 

"  That  makes  the  cottage  fhake. 
IX. 
"  Now  let  the  temped  blow  all  round, 

"  Now  fwell  the  furges  high, 
"  And  beat  this  houfe  of  bondage  downr. 

"  To  let  the  ftranger  fly. 
X. 
"  I  have  a  manfion  built  above 

"■  By  the  eternal  hand; 
"  And  mould  the  earth's  old  bafis  move 

"  My  heav'nly  houfe  muft  Hand. 
XI. 
*'  Yes,  for  'tis  there  my  faviour .reigns, 

'*  (I  long  to  fee  the  God) 
"  And  his  immortal  ftrength  fuftains 

*•  The  courts  that  coft  him  blood. 
XII. 
"  Hark  from  on  high  my  faviour  calls ; 

"  I  come,  my  Lord,  my  Love." 
Devotion  breaks  the  prifon-walls, 

And  fpeeds  my  laft  remove. 


Launching  into  Eternity, 

IT  was  a  brave  attempt!  adventurous  he, 
Who  in  the  fjrft  (hip  broke  the  unknown  fea  % 
And  leaving  his  dear  native  fhores  behind, 
Trufled  his  life  to  the  licentious  wind. 

I  fee 


104       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

I  fee  the  furging  brine  :  the  tempeft  raves :  "} 

He  on  a  pine-plank  rides  acrois  the  waves,  > 

Exulting  on  the  edge  of  thoufand  gaping  graves :  j 
He  fteers  the  winged  boat,  and  fhifts  the  fails, 
Conquers  the  flood  and  manages  the  gales. 

Such  is  the  foul  that  leaves  this  mortal  land 
Fearlefs  when  the  great  mafler  gives  command. 
Death  is  the  ftorm  :   fhe  fmiles  to  hear  it  roar, 
And  bids  the  tempeft  waft  her  from  the  fhore; 
Then  with  a  fkilful  helm  fhe  fweeps  the  feas, 
And  manages  the  raging  florin  with  eafe : 
(Her  faith  can  govern  death)  fhe  fpreads  her  wings 
Wide  to  the  wind,  and  as  fhe  fails  fhe  fings, 
And  lofes  by  degrees  the  fight  of  mortal  things. 
As  the  fhores  leflen,   fo  her  joys  arife. 
The  waves  roll  gentler,  and  the  tempeft.  dies, 
Now  vaft  erernity  fills  all  her  fight, 
She  floats  on  the  broad  deep  with  infinite  delight 
The  feas  for  ever  calm,   the  fkits  for  ever  bright. 

A  ProfpeB  of  the  Refurreftion. 

HOW  long  ihall  death  the  tyrant  reign; 
And  triumph  o'er  the  jult, 
While  the  rich   blood  of  Martyrs  flain 
Lies  mingled  with   the  dult? 
II. 
When  fhall  the  tedious  night  be  gone? 

When  will  our  Lord  appear? 
Our  fond  defires  would  pray  him  down, 
Our  love  embrace  him  here. 
III. 
Let  faith  arife  and  climb  the  hills, 
And  from  afar  dekry 

How 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      105 

How  diftant  are  his  chariot- wheels, 

And  tell  how-faft  they  fly.   - 
IV. 
ho,  I  behold  the  featuring  fhades, 

The  dawn  of  heav'n  appears, 
The  fweet  immortal  morning  fpreads 

Its  blumes  round  the  fpheres. 
V. 
I  fee  the  Lord  of  glory  come, 

And  flaming  guards  around  : 
The  flues  divide  to  make  him  room, 

The  trumpet  makes  the  ground. 
VI. 
1  hear  the  voice,  Ye  dead  arlfe, 

And  Io,  the  graves  obey, 
And  waking  faints  with  joyful  eyes. 

Salute  th'  expe&ed  day. 
VII. 
They  leave  the  duff,  and  on  the  wing; 

Rife  to  the  middle  air, 
In  fhining  garments  meet  their  king, 

And  low  adore  him  there. 
VIII. 
€>  may  my  humble  fpirit  fland 

Amongft  them  cloth'd  in  white! 
The  meanefi  Place  at  his  right  hand 

Is  infinite  delight. 

IX.       * 
How  will  cur  joy  and  wonder  rife, 

When  our  returning  king 
Shall  bear  us  homeward  thro'  the  fkies 

On  love's  triumphant  wing! 


Breathing 


106     LYRIC  POEMS,     Book  I. 
Breathing  toward  the  heavenly  Country* 

Cafimire,  Book  I.  Od.  19.  imitated. 
Urit  me  patriae  decor,  &c. 

THE  beauty  of  my  native  land 
Immortal  love  infpires; 
I  burn,  I  burn  with  flrong  defires, 
And  figh,  and  wait  the  high  command. 
There  glides  the  moon  her  mining  way, 
And  moots  my  heart  thro'  with  a  filver  ray, 
Upward  my  heart  afpires  : 
A  thoufand  lamps  of  golden  light 
Hung  high,  in  vaulted  azure,  charm  my  fight, 
And  wink  and  beckon   with  their  amorous  fires. 
O  ye  fair  glories  of  my  heavenly  home, 

Bright  centinels   who  guard  my  father's  court, 
Where  all  the  happy  minds  refort, 
When  will  my  father's  chariot  come? 
Muft  ye  for  ever  walk  the  ethereal  round, 
For  ever  fee  the  mourner  lie 
An  exile  of  the  fky, 
A  prifoner  of  the  ground  ? 
Defcend  fome  fhining  fervants  from  on  high, 
Build  me  a  hafty  tomb; 
A  graiTy  turf  will  raife  my  head; 
The  neighbouring  Lillies  drefs  my  bed; 

And  fhed  a  cheap  perfume. 
Here  I  put  off  the  chains  of  death, 

My  foul  too  long  has  worn  : 
Friends,  I  forbid  one  groaning  breath, 

Or  tear  to  wet  my  urn ; 
Raphael,  behold  me  all  undreft, 
Here  gently  lay  this  flefh  to  reft; 
Then  mount,  and  lead  the  path  unknown, 
Swift  I  purfue  thee,  flaming  guide,  on  pinions  of 
my  own.  On 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      107 

On  Saint  Ar  d  alio,  who  from  a  Stage- 
Player   became  a  Chri/lian,  and  fnf- 
fered  Martyrdom. 
I. 

ARDALIO  jeers,  and  in  his  comick  ftrains, 
The  myfteries  of  our  bleeding  God  profanes, 
While  his  loud  laughter  (hakes  the  painted  fcenes. 

II. 
Heaven  heard  and  ftrait  around  the  fmoaking  throne 
The  kindling  lightning  in  thick  fTafhes  fhone, 
And  vengeful  thunder  murmur'd  to  be  gone. 

III. 
Mercy  flood  near,  and  with  a  fmiling  brow 
Calm'd  the  loud  thunder;  "  there's  no  need  of  you ; 
*{  Grace  mall  defcend,  and  the  weak  man  fubdue. 

IV. 
Grace  leaves  the  fkies,  and  he  the  ftage  forfakes, 
He  bows  his  head  down  to  the  martyring  ax, 
And  as  he  bows,  his  gentle  farewel  fpeaks; 

V. 
"  So  goes  the  comedy  of  life  away; 
*'  Vain  earth,  adieu;  heaven  will  applaud  to  day; 
-*'  Strike  courteous  tyrant,  and  conclude  the  play. 

When  the  V  rot  eft  ant  Church  at  MontpeUer  -was  demo- 
lished by  the  French  King's  order,  the  Proteftants  laid 
Stones  up  in  their  Buryingplate,  -whereon  a  Jefuit 
made  a  Latin  Epigram. 

Englifhed  thus : 

AHug'not  Church,  once  at  MontpeHer  built, 
Stood  and  proclaimed  their  madnefs  and  their 
guilt  j 

Too 


io8        LYRIC    POEMS,      Book  I. 

Too  long  it  flood  beneath  heav'n's  angry  frown, 
Worthy  when  rifing,  to  be  thunder'd  down. 
Lewis,  at  lafl,  th'  avenger  of  the  Ikies, 
Commands,  and  level  with  the  ground  it  lies: 
The  (tones  difpers'd,  their  wretched  offspring  come, 
Gather,  and  heap  them  on  their  father's  tomb. 
Thus  the  curs'dhoufe  falls  on  the  builder's  head; 
And  tho'  beneath  the  ground  their  bones  are  laid, 
Yet  the  juft  vengeance  ftill  purfues  the  guilty  dead. 


ii 


The  Anfwer  by  a  French  Protejiant* 

Englifhed  thus: 

AChriltian  Church  once  at  Montpelier  flood, 
And  nobly  fpoke  the  builder's  zeal  for  Gob 
It  ifood  the  envy  of  the  fierce  dragoon, 
But  not  deferv'd  to  be  deftroy'd  fo  foon  : 
Yet  Lewis,  the  wild  tyrant  of  the  age, 
Tears  down  the  walls,  a  victim  to  his  rage. 
Young  faithful  hands  pile  up  the  facred  flones 
(Dear  monument!)  o'er  their  dead  fathers  bones; 
The  flones  fhall  move  when  the  dead  fathers  rife,  ~ 
Start  up  before  the  pale  deftroyer's  eyes, 
And  teftify  his  madnefs  to  th'  avenging  fkies. 


Two  happy  Rivals,   Devotion  and  tha 
Mufe> 


WILD  as  the  lightning,  various  as  the  moon, 
Roves  my  Pindaric  fong; 
Here  fhe  glows  like  burning  noon 
In  fiercefl  flames,  and  here  fhe  plays 
Gentle  as  fkr-beams  on  the  midnight  fcas; 

Now 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &e.      tog 

Now  in  a  fmiling  angel's  form, 
Anon  (he  rides  upon  the  frorm,- 
Loud  as  the  noify  thunder  as  a  deluge  ftrong, 
Are  my  thoughts  and  wifhes  free, 
And  know  no  number  nor  degree? 
Such  is  the  mufe :  lo  me  difdains 

'  The  links  and  chains, 
Meafures  and  rules  of  vulgar  (trains, 
And  o'er  the  laws  of  harmony  a  fovereign  queen 
me  reigns. 

II. 
If  me  roves 
By  ftreams  or  groves 
Turning  her  pleafures  on  her  pains, 
My  paffions  keeps  her  frill  in  fight, 
My  paffion  holds  an  equal  flight 
Thro'  love's,  or  nature's  wide  campaigns* 
If  with  bold  attempt  file  fings 
Of  the  biggeft  mortal  things, 
Tottering  thrones  and  nations  flain ; 
Or  breaks,  the  fleets  of  warring  kings, 
While  thunders  roar 
From   more  to  fhore, 
My  foul  fits  fafi;  upon  her  wings, 
And  fweeps  the  crimfon  furge,  or  fcours  the  purple 
plain; 
Still  I  attend  her  as  fhe  flies, 
Round  the  broad  globe,  and  all  beneath  the  (kits, 
III. 
But  when  from  the  meridian  ftar 

Long  ftreaks  of  glory  (hine, 
And  heaven  invites  her  from  afar, 
5he  takes  the  hint,   fhe  knows  the  fign, 
,   The  mufe  afcends  her  heavenly  carr, 
Ind  climbs  the  fteepy  path  and  means  the  throne 
divine, 

K  Then 


Ho      LYRIC  POEMS,     BookL 

Then  (he  leaves  my  fluttering  mind 
Clogg'd  with  clay,  and  unrefin'd, 
Lengths  of  diftance  far  behind; 
Virtue  lags  with  heavy  wheel ; 
Faith  has  wings,  but  cannot  rife, 

Cannot  rife, Swift  and  high 

As  the  winged  numbers  fly, 
And  faint  devotion  panting  lies 
Half  wav  th'  ethereal  hill. 
IV. 
O  why  is  piety  fo  weak, 

And  yet  the  mufe  fo  ftrong? 
When   fhall  thefe  hateful  fetters  break 

That  have  confin'd   me  long? 
Inward  a  glowing  heat  I  feel, 
A  fpark  of  heav'nly  day; 
But  earthly  vapours  damp  my  zeal, 
And  heavy  flefh  drags  me  the  downward  way. 

Faint  are  the  efforts  of  my   will, 
And  mortal  paffions  charm  my  foul  afrray. 
Shine,  thou  fweet  hour  of  dear  releafe, 
Shine,  from  the  iky, 
And  call  me  high 
To  mingle  with  the  choirs  of  glory  and  of  blifs» 
Devotion  there  begins  the  flight, 
Awakes  the  fong  and  guides  the  way; 
There  love  and  zeal  divine  and  bright 
Trace  out  new   regions  in  the  world  of  light, 
And  fcarce  the  bolJeft  mufe  can  follow  or  obey. 
V. 
I'm  in  a  dream,  and   fancy  reigns, 
She  fpr^ads  her  gay  delufive  fcenes; 

Or  is  the  viiion  true  ? 
Behold  religion   on   her  throne, 
In  awful   (late  defcending  down, 
And  her    dominions  vail   and    bright    within  my 
fpacious  view.  She 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      iii 

She  fmiles,  and  with  a  courteous  hand 
She  beckons  me  away; 
I  feel  mine  airy  powers  loofe  from  the  cumbrous  clay, 
And  with  a  joyful  hafte  obey 
Religion  s  high  command. 
What  lengths  and  heighths  and  depths  unknown  S 
Broad  fields  with  blooming  glory  fown, 
And  feas,  and  Ikies,  and  liars  her  own, 

In  an  unmeafur'd  fphere! 
What  heavens  of  joy,  and  light  ferene, 
Which  nor  the  rolling  fun  has  feen, 
Where  nor  the  roving  mufe  has  been 
That  greater  traveller! 
VI. 
A  long  farewel  to  all  below, 
Farewel  to  all  that  fenfe  can  mow, 
To  golden  fcenes,  and  flow'ry  fields, 
To  all  the  worlds  that  fancy  builds, 

And  all  that  poets  know. 
Now  the  fwift  tranfports  of  the  mind 
Leave  the  fluttering  mufe  behind, 
A  thoufand  loofe   Pindaric  plumes   fly   fcatt'ring 
down  the  wind. 
Amongft  the  clouds   I  lofe  my  breath, 

The  rapture  grows  too  ftrong; 
The  feeble  pow'rs  that  nature  gave 
Faint  and  drop  downward  to  the  grave; 
Receive  their  fall,  thou  treafurer  of  death ; 
I  will  no  more  demand  my  tongue, 
Till  the  grofs  organ  well   refin'd 
Can  trace  the  boundlefs  flights  of  an  unfetter'd  mind 
And  raife  an  "equal  long. 


Jk  Z.  The 


U2      LTRICPOEMS,    Book  I. 

The  following  Poems  of  this  Book  are  peculiarly 
dedicated  to  Divine  Lovf,.  * 

The  Hazard  of  loving  the  Creatures* 
I, 

WHERE-E'ER  my  flatt'ring  paffions  rove 
I   find  a  lurking  fnare ; 
'Tis  dangerous  to  let  loofe  our  love 
Beneath  th'   eternal  fair. 
II. 
Souls  whom  the  tye  of  friendship  hinds. 

And  partners  of  our  blood, 
Seize  a  large  portion  of  our  minds, 
And  leave  the  lefs  for  God. 
III. 
Nature  has  foft  but  powerful  bands, 

And  reafon   fhe  controuls ; 
While  children   with  their  little  hands 
Hang  cloieft  to  our  fouls. 
IV. 
Thoughtlefs  they  aft  th'  old  ferpent's  part; 

What  tempting  things  they  be  ! 
Lord,  how  they  twine  about  our  heart, 
And  draw  it  off  from  thee! 
V. 
Our  hairy  wills  rufh  blindly  on 
Where  rifing  paflion  rolls, 

And 

*  Different  ages  have  their  different  airs  and  fafficns 
of  writing.  It  -was  much  more  the  fajbion  of  the  age, 
■when  thefe  poems  were  written,  to  treat  of  divine  fithjeBs 
in  the  Jiyle  of  Solomon's  Song  than  it  is  at  this  day, 
which  will  afford  fome  apology  for  the  writer,  in 
his  youngeft  years. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &'c.      rr$ 

And  thus  we  make  our  fetters  ftrong 

To  bind  our  flavifh  fouls. 
VI. 
Dear  fovereign,  break  thefe  fetters  off, 

And  fet  our  fpirits  free; 
God  in  himfelf  is  blifs  enough, 

For  we  have  all  in  thee. 


De firing  to  love  Christ. 


COME,  let  me  love;  or  is  my  mind 
Harden'd  to  (tone,  or  froze  to  ice? 
I  fee  the  blelTed  fair  one  bend 
And  (loop  t'  embrace  me  from  the  fkies! 

IJ. 
O!  'tis  a  thought  would  melt  a  rock, 
And  make  a  heart  of  iron  move, 
That  thofe  fweet  lips,  that  heavenly  look,, 
Should  feek  and  wifh  a  mortal  love! 

III. 
I  was  a  traitor  doom'd  to  fire, 
Bound  to  fuftain  eternal  pains; 
He  flew  on  wings  of  ftrong  defire, 
AiTum'd  my  guilt,  and  took  my  chains.. 

IV. 
Infinite  grace!  almighty  charms! 
Stand  in  amaze,  ye  whirling  fkies, 
JESUS  the  God,  with  naked  arms, 
Hangs  on  a  crofs  of  love  and  dies. 

V. 
Did  pity  ever  ftoop  fo  low, 
Drefs'd  in  divinity  and  blood? 
"Was  ever  rebel  courted  fo 
In  groans  of  an  expiring  God? 

K  3.  VL 


H4       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

VI. 

Again  he  lives;  and  fpreads  his  hands, 
Hands  that  were  nail'd  to  tort'ring  fmart; 
By  theje  dear  -wounds,  fays  he;  and  ftands 
And  prays  to  ciafp  me  to  his  heart. 

VII. 
Sure  I  muft  love;  or  are  my  ears 
Still  deaf,  nor  will  my  paffion  move? 
Then  let  me  melt  this  heart  to  tears; 
This  heart  (hall  yield  to  death  or  love. 


The  Heart  given  away. 


IF  there  are  paffions  in  my  foul-, 
(And  paffions  fure  there  be) 
Now  they  are  all  at  thy  controul, 
My  JESUS  all  for  Thee. 
II. 
If  love,  that  pleafing  power,  can  reft 

In   hearts  fo  hard  as  mine, 
Come,  gentle  faviour,  to  my  breaft, 
For  all  my  love  is  thine. 
III. 
Let  the  gay  world,  with  treacherous  art, 

Allure  my  heart  in   vain; 
I  have  convey'd  away  my  heart, 
Ne'er  to  return  again. 
IV. 
I  feel  my  warmed  paffions  dead 

To  all  that  earth  can  boaft; 
This  foul  of  mine  was  never  made 
For  vanity  and  duft. 

V. 
Now  I  can  fix  my  thoughts  above, 
Amidft  their  flatt'ring  charms,  Till 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.      115 

Till  the  dear  Lord  that  hath  my  love, 

Shall  call  me  to  his  arms. 
VI. 
So  Gabriel,  at  his  king's  command, 

From  yon  celeftial  hill. 
Walks  downward  to  our  worthlefs  land,. 

His  foul  points  upward  (till. 
VII. 
He  glides  along  by  mortal  things, 

Without  a  thought  of  love, 
Fulfils  his  talk,  and  fpreads  his  wings 

To  reach  the  realms  above.; 


Meditation  in  a  Grove. 
I. 

SWEET  mufe  defcend,  and  blefs  the  ihade. 
And  blefs  the  evening  grove; 
Bufinefs,  and  noife,  and  day  are  fled, 
And  every  care,  but  love. 
II. 
But  hence,  ye  wanton  young  and  fair, 

Mine  is  a  purer  flame; 
No  Phillis  (hall  infect  the  air, 
With  her  unhallowed  name. 
III. 
JESUS  has  all  my  powers  pofleft, 

My  hopes,  my  fears,  my  joys: 
He,  the  dear  fovereign  of  my  breaft,, 
Shail  ftill  command  my  voice. 
IV. 
Some  of  the  faireft  choirs  above, 

Shall  flock  around  my  fong, 
With  joy  to  hear  the  name  they  love. 
Sound  from  a  mortal  tongue. 


il6     LYRIC  POEMS,     Book  I. 
V. 

His  charms  (hall  make  my  numbers  flow, 

And  hold  the  falling  floods, 
While  filence  fits  on  every  bough, 

And  bends  the  lift'ning  woods. 
VI* 
I'll  carve  our  paflion  on  the  bark, 

And  every  wounded  tree 
Shall  drop  and  bear  fome  my  (lie  mark 

That  JESUS  dy'd  for  me. 
VII. 
The  fwains  fhall  wonder  when  they  read, 

Infcrib'd  on  all   the  grove, 
That  heaven  itfelf  came  down,  and  bled 

To  win  a  mortal's  Jove. 

The  Faireji  and  the  Only  Beloved, 

HONOUR  to  that  diviner  ray 
That  firft:  allured  my  eyes  away 

From  every  mortal  fair; 
All  the  gay  things  that  held  my  fight 
Seem  but  the  twinkling  fparks  of  night, 
And  languishing  in   doubtful  light 

Die  at  the  morning-itar. 
II. 
Whatever  fpeaks  the  Godhead  great, 

And  fit  to  be  ador'd, 
Whatever  makes  the  creature  fweet, 
And  worthy  of  my  paflion,  meet 

Harmonious  in  my  Lord. 
A  thousand  graces  ever  rife 

And   bloom  upon  his  face; 
A  thoufand  arrows  from  his  eyes 
Shoot  thro'  my  heart  with  dear  furprizc, 

And  guard  around  the  place.  IIJ,. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.       117 
in. 

All  nature's  art  fhall  never  cure 

The  heavenly  pains  I  found, 
And  'tis  beyond  all  beauty's  power 
To  make  another  wound  : 

Earthly  beauties  grow  and  fade; 

Nature  heals  the  wounds  (he  made, 
But  charms  fo  much  divine 
Hold  a  long  empire  of  the  heart; 
What  heaven  has  join'd  mail  never  part. 
And  JESUS  mufr.  be  mine. 
IV. 
In  vain  the  envious  fhades  of  night, 

Or  flatteries  of  the  day 
Would  veil  his  image  from  my  fight, 

Or  tempt  my  foul  away; 
JESUS  is  all  my  waking  theme, 
His  lovely  form  meets  every  dream 

And  knows  not  to  depart: 
The  pafiion  reigns 
Thro'  all  my  veins, 
And  floating  round  the  crimson  ftream, 

Still  finds  him  at  my  heart. 
V. 
Dwell  there,  for  ever  dwell,  my  lovej 

Here  I  confine  my  fenfe; 
Nor  dare  my  wildeft  withes  rove 

Nor  ftir  a  thought  from  thence. 
Amidft  thy  glories  and  thy  grace 
Let  all  my  remnant-minutes  pafs; 

Grant,  thou  Everlasting  Fair, 

Grant  my  foul  a  manfion  there : 
My  foul   afpires  to  fee  thy  face 
Tho'  life  lhou'd  for  the  vilion  pay; 
So  rivers  run  to  meet  the  fea, 
And  lofe  their  nature  in  th'  embrace. 


u8        LYRIC    POEMS,      Book  I. 

VI. 
Thou  art  my  ocean,  thou  my  God  ; 
In   Thee  the  paflions  of  the  mind 
With  joys  and  freedoms  unconfin'd 
Exult,  and  fpread  their  powers  abroad. 
Not  all  the  glittering  things  on  high 
Can  make  my  heaven,  if  thou  remove; 
I  fhall  be  tir'd,   and  long  to  die; 
Life  is  a  pain   without  thy  love; 

Who  could  ever  bear  to  be 

Curft  with   immortality 
Among  the  ftars,  but  far  from  thee? 


Mutual  Love  Jironger  than  Death, 


NOT  the  rich  world  of  minds  above 
Can  pay  the  mighty  debt  of  love 
I  owe  to  Christ   my  Goo: 
With  pangs  which  none  but  he  could  feel. 
He  bought  my  guilty  foul  from  hell: 
Not  the  6rft  feraph's  tongue  can  tell 
The  value  of  his  blood. 
II. 
Kindly  he  feizd  me  «jn   his  arms, 
From  the  falfe  world's  pernicious  charms 

With  force  divinely  fweet. 
Had  I  ten  thoufand  lives  my  own, 
At  his  demand, 
With  chearful  hand, 
I'd  pay  the  vital  treafure  down 
In  hourly  tributes  at  his  feet. 

III. 
But,  Saviour,  let  me  tafte  thy  grace 
With  every  fleeting  breath? 

And 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      119 

Add  thro'  that  heaven  of  pleafure  pafs 

To  the  cold  arms  of  death: 
Then  I  could  lofe  fuccefllve  fouls 

Faft  as  the  minutes  fly; 
So  billow  after  billow  rolls 

To  kils  the  fhore,  and  die. 


The  jubftance  of  the  folio-wing  Copy,  and  many  of  the 
Lines  -werefent  me  by  an  efteemed  Friend,  Mr.  W. 
Nokes,  -with  a  defire  that  I  -would  form  them  into  a 
Pindaric  Ode  ;  but  I  retained  his  Meafures,  left  I 
Jhould  too  much  alter  the  fen  fe. 

d  Sight  of  Christ. 

ANGELS  of  light,  your  God    and   King  fur* 
round 

With  noble  fongs;  in  his  exalted  flelh 

He  claims  your  worfhip;  while  his  faints  on  earth, 

Blefs  their  Redeemer-God  with  bumble  tongues. 

Angels  with  lofty  honours  crown  his  head; 

Wc  bowing  at  his  feet,  by  faith,  may  feel 

His  diflant  influence,  and  eonfefs  his  love. 

Once  I  beheld  his  face,  when  beams  divine 
Broke  from  his  eye-lids,  and  unufual  light 
Wrapt  me  at  once  in  glory  and  furprize. 
My  joyful  heart  high  leaping  in  my  breaft 
With  tranfport  cry'd,  this  is  the  Christ  of  God; 
Then  threw  my  arms  around  in  fweet  embrace, 
And  clafp'd,  and  bow'd  adoring  low,  till  I  was  loft 
in  him. 

While  he  appears,  no  other  charms  can  hold 
Or  draw  my  foul,  afliam'd  of  former  things, 
Which  no  remembrance  now  deferve  or  name, 
Tho'  with  contempt;  bell  in  oblivion  hid. 

But 


i2o        LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

But  the  bright  fhine  and  prefence  foon  withdrew; 
I  fought  him  whom    I  love,   but  found  him  not; 
I  felt  his  abfence;   and  with  ftrongert  cries 
Proclaim'd,  -where  JESUS  is  not,  all  is  vain. 
"Whether  I  hold  him  with  a  full  delight, 
Or  feek  him  panting  with  extreme  defire, 
'Tis  he  alone  can  pleafe  my  wond'ring  foul; 
To  hold  or  feek  him  is  my  only  choice. 
If  he  refrain  on  me  to  caft  his  eye 
Down  from  his  palace,  nor  my  longing  foul 
With  upward  look  can  fpy  my  deareftLoRD 
Thro'  his  blue  pavement,  I'll  behold  him  (till 
With  fweet  reflection  on  the  peaceful  crofs, 
All  in  his  blood  and  anguifh  groaning  deep, 

Gafping  and  dying  there - 

This  fight  I  ne'er  can  lofe,  by  it  I  live  : 
A  quick'ning  virtue  from  his  death  infpir'd 
Is  life  and  breath  to  me  ;  his  flefh  my  food; 
His  vital  blood  I  drink,  and  hence  my  ftrength. 

I  live,  I'm  ftrong,  and  now  eternal  life 
Beats  quick  within  my  breaft ;  my  vigorous  mind 
Spurns  the  dull  earth,  and  on  her  fiery  wings 
Reaches  the  mount  of  purpofes  divine, 
Couniels  of  peace  betwixt  th'  almighty  three 
Conceiv'd  at  once,  and  fign'd  without  debate, 
In  perfect  union  of  th'  eternal  mind. 
With  vail  amaze  I  fee  the  unfathom'd  thoughts, 
Infinite  fchemes,  and  infinite  defigns 
Of  God's  own  heart,  in  which  he  ever  refts. 
Eternity  lies  open  to  my  view; 
Here  the  beginning  and  the  end  of  all, 
J  can  difcover;   CHRIST  the  end  of  all, 
And  CHRIST  the  great  beginning;   he  my  head, 
IVly  God,   my  glory,  and  my  all  in  all. 

O  that  the  day,  the  joyful  day  were  come, 
When  the  fir  it  Adam  from  his  ancient  duit 

Crovvn'd 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c,      121 

Crown'd  with  new  honours  (hall  revive,  and  fee 
JESUS  his  Son  and  Lord  ;   while  Ihouting  faints 
Surround  their  king,  and  God's  eternal  fon 
Shines  in  the  midft,  but  with  fuperior  beams, 
And  like  himfelf ;  then  the  myiterious  word 
Long  hid  behind  the  letter  (had  appear 
All  fpirit  and  life,  and  in  the  fulleft  light 
Stand  forth  to  publick  view,  and  there  difclofe  _ 
His  father's  facred  works,  and  wondrous  ways: 
Then  wifdom,  righteoufnefs  and  grace  divine, 
Thro'  all  the  infinite  iranfadtions  part, 
Inwrought  and  fhining,  (hall  with  double  blaz« 
Strike  our  aflonifh'd  eyes,  and  ever  reign. 
Admir'd  and  glorious  in  triumphant  light. 

Death,  and  the  tempter,  and  the  man  of  fin 
Now  at  the  bar  arraign'd,  in  judgment  caft, 
Shall  vex  the  faints  no  more  :  but  perfect  love 
And  loudeft  praifes  perfect  joys  create, 
While  ever  circling  years  maintain  the  blifsful  ilate. 


Love  on  a  Crofs,  and  a  Throne^ 

NOW  let  my  faith  grow  ftrong,  and  rife, 
And  view  my  Lord  in  all  his  love; 
Look  back  to  hear  his  dying  cries, 
Then  mount  and  fee  his  throne  above; 

II. 
See"  where  he  languifh'd  on  the  crofs; 
Beneath  my  fins  he  groan'd  and  dy'd; 
See  where  he  fits  to  plead  my  caufe 
By  his  almighty  father's  fide. 

III. 
If  I  behold  his"-  bleeding  heart, 
There  love  in  floods  of  forrow  reigns, 

L  3ttc 


122      LYRIC  POEMS,     BookL 

He  triumphs  o'er  the  killing  fmart, 
And  buys  my  pleafure  with  his  pains, 

IV. 
Or  if  I  climb  th'  eternal  hills 
Where  the  dear  Conqjjeror  fits  enthron'd, 
Still  in  his  heart  companion  dwells, 
Near  the  memorials  of  his  wound. 

V. 
How  fha.Il  a  pardon' d  rebel  (how 
How  much   I  love  my  dying  God  ? 
Lord,  here  I  banifh  every  foe, 
I  hate  the  fins  that  cofl:  thy  blood. 

VI. 
I  hold  no  more  commerce  with  hell, 
My  deareft  lulls  fhall  all  depart; 
But  let  thine  image  ever  dwell 
Stampt  as  a  feal  upon  my  heart. 


A  Preparatory  Thought  for  the  Lord's 
Supper. 

In  Imitation  of  Ifai.  lxiii.  I,  2,  3. 

I. 

WHAT  heavenly  Man,  or  lovely  God, 
Comes  marching  downwards  from  the  {kle$x 
Array 'd  in  garments  roll'd  in  blood, 
With  joy  and  pity  in  his  eyes  ? 

II. 
The  Lord!  the  Saviour!  yes,  'tis  he, 
I  know  him  by  the  fmiles  he  wears; 
Dear  glorious  Man  that  dy'd  for  me, 
Drench'd  deep  in  agonies  and  tears! 

III. 
Lo,  he  reveals  his  fhining  hrtaft; 
1  own  thofe  wounds,  and  i  adore;  Lo, 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      123 

Lo,  he  prepares  a  royal  feaft, 

Sweet  fruit  of  the  fharp  pangs  he  bore! 

IV. 
Whence  flow  thefe  favours  fb  divine! 
Lord!  why  fo  lavifh  of  thy  blood? 
Why  for  fuch  earthly  fouls  as  mine, 
This  heavenly  flefh,  this  facred  food. 

V. 
'Twas  his  own  love  that  made  him  bleed., 
That  nail'd  him  to  the  curfed  tree; 
'Twas  his  own  love  this  table  fpread 
For  fuch  unworthy  worms  as  we. 

VI. 
Then  let  us  tafte  the  faviour's  love, 
Come,  faith,  and  feed  upon  the  Lord  : 
With  glad  confent  our  lips  fhall  move 
And  fweet  hofannas  crown'd  the  board. 


Converfe  'with  Christ. 

I'M  tir'd  with  vifits,  modes  and  forms, 
And  flatteries  paid  to  fellow  worms; 

Their  converfation  cloys: 
Their  vain  amours,  and  empty  fluff: 
But  I  can  ne'er  enjoy  enough 
Of  thy  bleft  company,    my    Lord,  thou    life  of 
all  my  joys. 

II. 
When  he  begins  to  tell  his  love, 
Through  every  vein  my  paffions  move. 

The  captives  of  his  tongue; 
In  midnight  (hades,  on  frofty  ground, 
I  could  attend  the  pleafing  found, 
Nor  fhould  I  feci    December  cold,  nor    think  the 
darknefs  long. 

L  %  III. 


124        LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
in. 

There,  while  T  hear  my  Saviour-God 
Count  o'er  the  fins  (a  heavy  load) 
He  bore  upon  the  tree, 
Inward  I  blulh  with  fecret  lhame, 
And  weep,  and  love,  and  blefs  the  name 
That  knew  nor  guilt  nor  grief  his  own,  but  bare 
it  all  for  me. 

IV. 
Next  he  defcribes  the  thorns  he  wore, 
And  ta'ks  his  bloody  paffion  o'er, 

Till   I  am   drown'd   in   tears: 
Yet  with  the  fympatbetic  fmart 
There's  a  ltrange  joy  beats  round  my  heart; 
The  curfed   tree    has  blcflings  in't,    my    fweeteft 
balm  it  bears. 

V. 
I  hear  the  glorious  futferer  tell, 
How  on  his  crofs  he  vanquifli'd  hell, 

And  all  the  powers  beneath; 
Transported  and  infpir'd,   my  tongue 
Attempts  his  triumphs  in  a  fong; 
Hoiv  has  the  fir-pent  loft  his  ft'ing,  and  where' s  thy 
■viUory,  death? 

VI. 
But  when  he  fhews  his  hands  and  heart, 
With  thofe  dear  prints  of  dying  fmart, 

He  fets  my  foul  on  fire: 
Not  the  beloved  John  could  reft 
With  more  delight  upon  that  bread, 
Nor  Thomas  pry  into  thofe  wounds  with  more  in» 
tenfe  defire. 

VII. 
Kindly  he  opens  me  his  ear, 
And  bids  me  pour  my  furrows,  there, 
And  tell  him  all  my  pains: 

Thus. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      125 

Thus  while  I  eafe  my  burden'd  heart, 
In  every  woe  he  bears  a  pa<rt, 
His  arr«£  embrace  me,  and  his  hand  my  drooping 
bead  fuftains. 

VIII. 
Fly  from  my  thoughts,  all  human  things, 
Aad  fporting  fwains,  and  fighting  kings, 

And  tales  of  wanton  love: 
My  foul  difdains  that  little  fhare 
The  tangles  of  Amira's  hair; 
Thine  arras,  my  God,  are  fweeter  bands,  nor  cart 
my  heart  remove. 

Grace  Jhining,  and  Nature  fain  ting* 

Sol.  Song  i.  3,  &  ii.  5,  &  vi.  5. 
h 

TELL  me,  faireft  of  thy  kind, 
Tell  me  Shepherd,  all  divine^ 
Where  this  fainting  head  reelin'd 
May  relieve  fuch  cares  as  miner 
Shepherd,  lead  me  to  thy  grove; 
If  burning  noon  infect  the  fky 
The  fick'ning  Jneep  to  coverts  fly, 
The  flieep  not  half  fo  faint  as  1^ 
Thus  overcome  with  love. 
II. 
Say,  thou  dear  Sovereign  of  my  breaflr,. 
Where  doft  thou  lead  thy  flock  to  reft? 
Why  mould  I  appear  like  one 
Wild  and  wand'ring  all  alone, 
Unbeloved  and  unknown  ? 
O  my  great  Redeemer,  fay, 
Shall  I  turn  my  feet  aftray! 
Will  JESUS  bear  to  fee  me  rove, 
To  fee  rae  feek  another  love? 

l  3  im. 


i26       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  L 
in. 

Ne'er  had  I  known  his  deareft  name, 
Ne'er  had   I  felt   his  inward  flame, 
Had  not  his  heart-firings  firft  began  the  tender  found; 
Nor  can   I  bear  the  thought,  that  he 
Shou'd  leave  the  (ky, 
Shou'd  bleed  and   die, 
Should  love  a  wretch  fo  vile  as  me 
Without  returns  of  pafllon   for  his  dying  wound, 
IV. 
His  eyes  are  glory  mix'd  with  grace; 
In  his  delightful  awful  face 
Sits  majefty  and   gentlenefs. 
So  tender  is  my  bleeding   heart 
That  with  a  frown  he  kills  j 
His  abfence  is  perpetual  fmart, 
Nor  is  my  foul  refin'd  enough 
To  bear  the  beaming  of  his  love, 

And  feel  his  warmer  fmiles. 
Where  fhall  I  reft  this  drooping  head  ? 
I  love,  I  love  the  fun,  and  yet  I  want  the  fhade; 
V. 
My  finking  fpirits  feebly  drive 

T'  endure  the  extafy; 
Beneath  thefe  rays  I  cannot  live, 

And  yet  without  them  die. 
None  knows  the  pleafure  and  the  pain 
That  all  my  inward  powers  fuftain 
But  fuch  as    feel  a  Saviour's  love,  and  love  the 
God  aerain. 

VI. 
O  why  mould  beauty  heavenly  bright 

Stoop  to  charm  a  mortal's  fight, 
And  torture  with   the  fweet  excefs  of  light  ? 
Our  hearts,  alas!  how  frail  their  make! 
With  their  own  weight  of  joy  they  break, 
Oh  why  is  love  fo  ftrouK,  and  nature's  felf  fo  weak? 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.       127 

VII. 

Turn,  turn  away  thine  eyes, 
Afcend  the  Azure  hills,  and  fhine 
Amongfl:  the  happy  tennants  of  the  ikies, 
They  can  fuftain  a  vifion  fo  divine. 

O  turn  thy  lovely  glories  from  me, 
The  joys  are  too  intenfe,  the  glories  overcome  me* 
VIII. 
Dear  Lord,  forgive  my  rafh  complaint,, 
And  love  me  flill 
Againft  my  froward  will; 
Unvail  thy  beauties,  tho'  I  faint* 
Send  the  great  herald  from  the  iky, 
And  at  the'j  trumpet's  awful  roar 
This  feeble  ftate  of  things  fhall  fly, 
And  pain  and  pleafure  mix  no  more  : 
Then  fhall  I  gaze  with  flrenghthened  fight 
On   glories  infinitely  bright, 
My  heart  fhall  all  be  love,  my  JESUS  all  delight. 

Love  to  Christ  prefent  or  abfent* 

O-F  all  the  joys  we  mortals  know, 
JESUS,  thy  love  exceeds  the  reft; 
Love,  the  befl  bleffihg  here  below, 
And  nearefl  image  of  the  bleft. 

II. 
Sweet  are  my  thoughts,  and  foft  my  cares^ 
When  the  celeflial  flame  I  feel; 
In  all  my  hopes,  and  all  my  fears, 
There's  fomething  kind  and  pleafing  ftilL, 

III. 
While  I  am  held  in  his  embrace 
There's  not  a  thought  attempts  to  rove; 
jEach  fmile  he  wears  upon  his  face 
♦Fixes,  and  charms,  and  fires  my  fove.  He 


128        LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

IV. 
He  fpeaks,  and  ftrait  immortal  joys 
Run  thro'  my  cars,  and  reach  my  heart; 
My  foul  all  melts  at  that  dear  voice, 
And  pleafure  moots  thro'  every  part. 

V. 
If  he  withdraw  a  moment's  fpace, 
He  leaves  a  facred  pledge  behind; 
Here  in  this  breaft  his  image  (lays, 
The  grief  and  comfort  of  my  mind, 

VI. 
While  of  his  abfence  I  complain, 
And  long,  and  weep  as  lovers  do, 
There's  a  ftrange  pleafure  in  the  pain, 
And  tears  have  their  own  fweetnefs  toov 

VII. 
When  round  his  courts  by  day  I  rove, 
Or  alk  the  watchmen  of  the  night 
For  fome  kind  tidings  of  my  love, 
His  very  name  creates  delight. 

VIII. 
JESUS,  my  God;  yet  rather  come; 
Mine  eyes  would  dwell  upon  thy  face; 
'Tis  bed  to  fee  my  LoRD-at  home, 
And  feel  the  prefence  of  his  grace. 


The  Abfence  of  Christ, 
i. 

COME,  lead  me  to  fome  lofty  fhade 
Where  turtles  moan  their  loves; 
Tall  fliadows  were  for  lovers  made: 
And  grief  becomes  the  groves. 
II. 
'Tis  no  mean  beauty  of  the  ground 
That  has  enflav'd  my  eyes;  I  faint 


Sacred  to  Devotion,   &c.      129 

I  faint  beneath  a  nobler  wound, 
Nor  love  below  the  ikies. 
III. 
JESUS,  the  fpring  of  all  that's  bright, 
-  The  everlafting  fair, 

Heaven's  ornament,  and  heaven's  delight* 
Is  my  eternal  care. 

IV. 
But,  ah !  how  far  above  this  grove 
Does  the  bright  charmer  dwell  ? 
Abfence,  that  keenefl   wound  to  love, 
That  fharpeft  pain,  I  feel. 
V. 
Penfive  I  climb  the  facred  hills, 
And  near  him  vent  my  woes; 
Yet  bis  fweet  face  he  ft  ill  conceals, 
Yet  flill  my  paffion  grows. 
VI. 
I  murmur  to  the  hollow  vale, 

I  tell  the  rocks  my  flame, 
And  blefs  the  eccho  in  her  cell 
That  befl  repeats  his  name. 
VII. 
My  paffion  breathes  perpetual  fighs, 

Till  pitying  winds  fhall  hear, 
And  gently  bear  them  up  the  Ikies, 
And  gently  wound  his  ear. 


Dejiring  his  Defcent  to  Earth. 

I. 

JESUS,  I  love.     Come-,  deareft  name, 
Come  and  poffds  this  heart  of  mine; 
I  love,  tho'  'tis  a  fainter  flame, 
And  infinitely  lefs  than  thine. 

IL 


i3o       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 
n. 

O!  if  mv  Lord  would  le  ve  the  flues, 
Drcft  in  the  rays  of  mildeft  grace, 
My  foul  (hould  haften  to  my  eyes 
To  meet  the  pleafures  of  his  face. 

Ill, 
How  would  I  feaft  on  ail  his  charms, 
Then  round  his  lovely  feet  entwine! 
Worfhip  and  love,  in  all  their  forms, 
Shou'd  honour  beauty  fo  divine, 

IV. 
In  vain  the  tempter's  ftatt'ring  tongue, 
The  world  in  vain  Ihould  bid  me  move, 
In  vain  ;  for  1  fhould  gaze  fo  long 
Till  I  were  all  transformed  to  love, 

V. 
Then  (mighty  God)  I'd  fing  and  fay, 
"  What  empty  names  are  crowns  and  kings! 
•*  Amongft  'em  give  thefe  worlds  away, 
"  Thefe  little  defpicable  things. 

VI. 
I  would  not  afk  to  climb  the  fky, 
Nor  envy  angels  their  abode, 
I  have  a  heav'n  as  bright  and  high 
In  the  bleft  vifion  of  my  God. 


Jfc ending  to  Him  in  Heaven* 
I. 

>y  I  MS  pure  delight,  without  alloy, 

_L      JESUS  to  hear  thy  name, 
My  fpirit  leaps  with  inward  joy, 

I  feel  the  lacred  flame. 
II. 
My  paffions  hold  a  pleafing  reign, 

While  love  infpires  my  breaft,  Love> 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.     131 

Love,  the  divineft  of  the  train, 

The  fovereign  of  the  reft. 
III. 
This  is  the  grace  nuift  live  and  fing, 

When  faith  and  fear  (hall  ceafe, 
Muft  found  from  every  joyful  ftring 

Thro'  the  fweet  groves  of  blifs, 
IV. 
Let  life  immortal  fdze  my  clay; 

Let  love  refine  my  blood; 
Her  flames  can  bear  my  foul  away, 

Can  bring  me  near  my  God. 
V. 
Swift  I  afcend  the  heavenly  place, 

And  haften  to  my  home, 
I  leap  to  meet  thy  kind  embrace, 

I  come,  O  Lord,  I  come, 
VI. 
Sink  down,  ye  feparating  hills, 

Let  guilt  and  death  remove, 
'Tis  love  that  drives  my  chariot  wheels, 

And  death  mult  yield  to  love. 

The  Prefence  of God  worth   dying  for: 

Qr9  the  Death  of  Mofes. 

1. 

LORD,  'tis  an  infinite  delight 
To  fee  thy  lovely  face, 
To  dwell  whole  ages  in  thy  fight, 
And  feel  thy  vital  rays. 
If. 
This  Gabriel  knows;  and  fings  thy  name 

With  rapture  on  his  tongue; 
Mofes  the  faint,  enjoys  the  fame, 
And  heaven  repeats  the  long.  III. 


132     LYRIC  POE  MS,    Book  I. 
in. 

While  the  bright  nation  founds  thy  praife 

From  each  eternal  hill, 
Sweet  odours  of  exhaling  grace 

The  happy  region  fill. 
IV. 
Thy  love,  a  fea  without  a  more, 

Spreads  life  and  joy  abroad ; 
O  'tis  a  heaven  worth  dying  for, 

To  fee  a  fmiling  God  ! 
V. 
Shew  me  thy  face,  and  I'll  away 

From  all  inferior  things; 
Speak,  Lord,  and  here  I  quit  my  clay, 

And  llretch  my  airy  wings. 
VI. 
Sweet  was  the  journey  to  the  fky 

The  wondrous  prophet  try'd; 
Climb  up  the  mount,  fays  God,  and  die; 

The  prophet  climb'd  and  dy'd. 
VII. 
Softly  his  fainting  head  he  lay 

Upon   his  Maker's  breaft, 
His  Maker  kifs'd  his  foul  away, 

And  laid  his  flefh  to  reft. 
VIII. 
In  God's  own  arms  he  left  the  breath 

That  God's  own   fpirit  gave; 
His  was  the  noblefr.  road  to  death, 

And  his  the  fweeteft  grave. 


Long 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c,     133 
Long  for  his  Return . 

O'Twas  a  mournful  parting  day! 
Fareweh  nty  fpoafe,  he  faid; 
How  tedious,  Lord,  is  thy  delay! 
(How  long  my  love  hath  ftaid!) 

Fare-well  at  once  he  left  the  ground, 

And  climb'd  his  father's  fky: 
Lord,  I  would  tempt  thy  chariot  down, 

Or  leap  to  thee  on  high. 
III. 
Round  the  creation  wild  I  rove, 

And  fearch  the  globe  in  vain; 
There's  nothing  here  that's  worth  my  love 

Till  thou  return  again. 
IV. 
My  paflions  fly  to  feek  their  King, 

And  fend  their  groans  abroad, 
They  beat  the  air,  with  heavy  wing, 

And  mourn  an  abfent  God. 
V. 
"With  inward  pain  my  heart-ftrings  found, 

My  foul  diflblves  away; 
Dear  Sovereign,  whirl  the  feafons  round, 

And  bring  the  promis'd  day. 

Hope  in   Darknefs. 

I.  1694, 

YET,  gracious  GOD, 
Yet  will  I  feek  thy  fmiling  face; 
What  tho'  a  ihort  eciipfe  his  beauties  fhrowd 

And  bar  the  influence  of  his  rays, 
'Tis  but  a  morning  vapour,  or  a  fummer  cloud- 
M  He 


134       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I. 

He  is  my  fun,  tho'  he  refufe  to  Ihijie, 

Tho'  for  a  moment  he  depart 

I  dwell  for  ever  on  his  heart, 
For  ever  he  on  mine. 

Early  before  the  light  arife 

I'll  fpring  a  thought  away  to  God; 

The  paffion  of  my  heart  and  eyes 

Shall  fliout  a  thoufand  groans  and  Cghs, 

A  thoufand  glances  ftrike  the  ikies, 
The  floor  of  his  abode. 
II. 

Dear  Sovereign,  hear  thy  fervant  pray, 

Bend  the  blue  heavens,  Eternal  King, 

Downward  thy  chearful  graces  bring ; 
Or  fhall  I  breathe  in  vain  and  pant  my  hours  away? 
Break,  glorious  Brightness,  thro'  the  gloomy  veil, 

Look  how  the  armies  of  defpair 

Aloft  their  footy  banners  rear 

Round  my  poor  captive  foul,  and  dare 

Pronounce  me  prifoner  of  hell. 

But  Thou,  my  Sun,  and  Thou,  my  Shield, 

Wilt  fave  me  in   the  bloody  field; 
Break,  glorious  Brightness,  ihoot  one  glimm'ring 
ray, 

One  glance  of  thine  creates  a  day, 

And  drives  the  troops  of  hell  away. 
III. 
Happy  the  times,  but  ah !  the  times  are  gon« 

When   wond'rous  power  and  radiant  grace 
Round  the  tall  arches  of  the  temple  ihone, 
And   mingled  their  victorious  rays  : 
Sin    with   all  its  ghaflly  train, 

Fled  to  the  deeps  of  death  again, 
And  fmiling  triumph  fat  on   every   face; 

Our  ipirits  raptur'd  with  the  fight 

Were  all  devotion,  all  delight, 
And  loud  Hoiannas  founded  the  Redeemer's  praife. 


Sacred  to  Devotion,  &c.      135- 

Here  could  I  fay, 
(And  point  the  place  whereon  I  flood) 
Here  I  enjoy'd  a  vifit  half  the  day 

From  my  defcending  God : 
I  was  regal'd  with  heavenly  fare, 
With  fruit  and  manna  from1  above; 
Divinely  fweet  the  bleflings  were 
While  mine  Emanuel  was  there; 
And  o'er  my  head 
The  Conqueror  fpread 

The  banner  of  his  love. 
IV. 
Then  why  my  heart  funk  down  fo  low  I 
Why  do  my  eyes  diflblve  and  flow, 

And  hopelefs  nature  mourn? 
Review,  my  foul,  thofe  pleafing  days, 
Read  his  unalterable  grace 
Thro'- the  difpleafure  of  his  face, 

And  wait  a  kind  return. 
A  father's  love  may  raife  a  frown 
To  chide  the  child,  or  prove  the  fbn, 

But  love  will  ne'er  deftroy; 
The  hour  of  darknefs  is  but  fhort, 
Faith  be  thy  life,  and  patience  thy  fupport, 

The  morning  brings  the  joy. 


Come,-  Lord  JESUS. 
1. 

WHEN  fhall  thy  lovely  face  he  feen? 
When  (hall  our  eyes  behold  our  God  I 
What  lengths  of  diftance  lie  between, 
And  hills  of  guilt?  a  heavy  load! 

II. 
Our  months,  are  ages  of  delay, 
And  flowly  every  minute  wears;. 

M,  a,  Fly* 


136     LYRIC  POEMS,     Bookl. 

Fly,  winged  time,  and  roll  away 
Thefe  tedious  rounds  of  fluggifh  years,. 

III. 
Ye  heavenly  gates,  Joofe  all  your  chains,. 
Let  the  eternal  pillars  bow; 
Bleft  Saviour,  cleave  the  ftarry  plains, 
And  make  the  chjyftal  mountains  flow. 

IV. 
Hark,  how  thy  faints  unite  their  cries, 
And  pray  and  wait  the  general  doom; 
Come,  thou,  The  Soul  of  all  our  Joys,. 
Thou,  The  desire  of  nations,  come. 

'  Y> 
Put  thy  bright  robes  of  triumph  on, 

And  blefs  our  eyes,   and  blefs  our  ears, 

Thou  abfent  Love,  thou  dear  Unknown,. 

Thou  Fairest  of  ten  thousand  Fairs. 

VJ. 

Our  heart  firings  groan   with  deep  complaint, 

Our  flefh  lies  panting,  Lord,  for  thee, 

And  every  limb,  and  every  joint, 

Stretches  for  immortality. 

VII. 

Our  fpirits  fhake  their  eager  wings, 

And  burn  to  meet  thy  flying  throne;; 

We  rife  away  from  mortal  things 

T'  attend  thy  mining  chariot  down. 

VIII. 

Now   let  our  cheat ful  eyes  furvey 

The  blazing  earth  and  melting  hills, 

And  fmile  to  fee  the  lightnings  play,. 

And  flafh  along  before  thy  wheels. 

IX. 

O  for  a  fhout  of  violent  joys, 

To  join  the  trumpet's  thund'ring  found!; 

The  angel  herald  makes  the  fkie6, 

Anakes  the  graves,  and  tears  the  ground.        X.. 


Sacred  fo  Devotion,  &c.      137 

x. 

Ye  flumb'ring  faints,  a  heavenly  hod 
Stands  waiting  at  your  gaping  tombs; 
Let  every  facred  fleeping  duft 
Leap  into  life,  for  JESUS  comes. 

XT. 
JESUS,  the  God  of  might  and  love, 
New-moulds  our  limbs  of  cumb'rous  clayj 
Quick  as  feraphick  flames  we  move, 
Active  and  young,  and  fair  as  they. 

XII. 
Gur  airy  feet  with  unknown  flight 
Swift  as  the  motions  of  defire. 
Run  up  the  hills  of  heavenly  light, 
And  leave  the  weltring  world  in  fire. 

Bewailing  my  own  Inconjiancy* 

I  LOVE  the  Lord;  but  ah!  how  far 
_  My  thoughts  from  the  dear  object  are! 
This  wanton  heart  how  wide  it  roves! 
And  fancy  meets  a  thoufand  loves. 

II- 

If  my  foul  burn  to  fee  my  God, 
I  tread  the  courts  of  his  abode, 
But  troops  of  rivals  throng  the  place 
And  tempt  me  off  before  his  face. 

III. 
Would  I  enjoy  my  Lord  alone, 
I  bid  my  paflions  all  be  gone, 
All  but  my  love ;  and  charge  my  will 
To  bar  the  door  and  guard  it  ftill. 

IV. 
But  cares  or  trifles  make  or  find 
Still  new  avenues  to  the  mind, 

M  3  Till: 


138     LYRIC  POEMS,     Bookl. 

Till  I  with  grief  and  wonder  fee 

Huge  crowds  betwixt  my  Lord  and  me.. 

V. 
Oft  I  am  told  the  mufe  will  prove, 
A  friend  to  piety  and  love  : 
Strait   I   begin  fome  facred  fong, 
And  take  my  Saviour  on  my  tongue, 

Strangely  I  lofe  his  lovely  face 
To  hold  the  empty  founds  in  chafe; 
At  bed  the  chimes  divide  my  heart, 
And  the  mufe  fhares  the  larger  part. 

VII. 
Falfe  confident;  and  falfer  breaft! 
Fickle  and  fond  of  every  gueft  : 
Each  airy  image  as  it  flies 
Here  finds  admittance  thro'  my  eyes. 

VIII. 
This  foolifli  heart  can   leave  her  God, 
And   lhadows  tempt  her  thoughts  abroad; 
How  fhall  I  fix  this  wandring  mind, 
Or  throw  my  fetters  on  the  wind  ? 

IX. 
Look  gently  down,  Almighty  Grace, 
Prifon  me  round  in  thine  embrace; 
Pity  the  foul  that  would  be  thine, 
And  let  thy  power  my  love  confine. 

X. 
Say,  when  fhall  that  bright  moment  be 
That  I  ihall  live  alone  for  thee, 
My  heart  no  foreign  lords  adore, 
And  the  wild  mufe  prove  falfe  no  more  ? 


Forfakeiiy 


Sacred'  to  Devotion,  &c.      139 

Forfaken,  yet  Hoping. 
I. 

HAPPY  the  hours,  the  golden  days, 
When  I  could  call  my  JESUS  mine3. 
And  fit  and  view  his  fmiling  face, 
And  melt  in  pleafures  all  divine. 

II. 
Near  to  my  heart,  within  my  arms 
He  lay,  till  fin  defil'd  my  bread, 
Till  broken  vows  and  earthly  charms* 
Tir'd  and  provok'd  my  heavenly  gueft, 

III. 
And  now  he's  gone,  (O  mighty  woe!) 
Gone  from  my  foul,  and  hides  his  love! 
Curfe  on  you,  fins,  that  griev'd  him  fo, 
Ye, fins,  that  fore'd  him  to  remove. 

IV. 
Break,  break,  my  heart;  complain  my  tongue; 
Hither,  my  friends,  your  forrows  bring; 
Angels  affifr.  my  doleful  fong, 
If  you  have  e'er  a  mourning  firing, 

V. 
But  ah!   your  joys  are  ever  high, 
Ever  his  lovely  face  you  fee ; 
While  my  poor  fpirits  pant  and  die, 
And  groan  for  thee,  my  God,  for  thee* 

VI. 
Yet  let  my  hope  look  thro'  my  tears, 
And  fpy  afar  his  rolling  throne; 
His  chariot  thro'  the  cleaving  fpheres 
Shall  bring  the  bright  Beloved  down. 

VII. 
Swift  as  a  roe  flies  o'er  the  hills, 
My  foul  fprings  out  to  meet  him  highj 

Then 


140       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  L 

Then  the  fair  Conqjljerer  turns  his  wheels, 
And  climbs  the  manfions  of  the  fky. 

VIII. 
There  fmiluig  joy  for  ever  reigns, 
No  more  the  turtle  leaves  the  dove; 
Farewel  to  jealoufies,  and  pains, 
And  all  the  ills  of  abfent  love. 


The     Conclusion. 

God   exalted  above  all  Praife. 

ETERNAL  power!  whofe  high  abode 
Becomes  the  grandeur  of  a  God; 
Infinite  lengths  beyond  the  bounds 
Where  flars  revolve  their  little  rounds. 

II. 
The  lowed  ftep  above  thy  feat 
Rifes  too  high  for  Gabriel's  feet, 
In  vain  the  tall  arch-angel  tries 
To  reach  thine  height  with  wondring  eyes. 

III. 
Thy  dazling  beauties  whilft  he  fings, 
He  hides  his  face  behind  his  wings; 
And  ranks  of  mining  thrones  around 
Fall  worlhipping,  and  fpread  the  ground, 

IV. 
Lord,  what  fhall  earth  and  afhes  do  ? 
We  would  adore  our  Maker  too; 
From  fin  and  duft  to  thee  we  cry 
Jbe  Great,  tU  Holy,  and  the  hiGU. 


Sacred  to.  Devotion-,  &c,      141 
v. 

Earth  from  afar  has  heard  thy  fame, 
And  worms  have  learnt  to  lifp  thy  namej 
But,  O,  the  glories  of  thy  mind, 
Leave  all  our  foaring  thoughts  behind. 

VI. 
God  is  in  heaven,  and  men  below; 
Be  fhort,  our  tunes;  our  words,  be  few; 
A  facred  reverence  checks  our  fongs, 
And  praife  fits  filent  on  our  tongues.  _ 


The  END  of  the  FIRST  BOOK. 
Tibi  ftkt  laust  0.  Deus,  P&l.  Ixv.  I. 


B  0-  R  M 


HO  R  M     LY  R  I  C  M. 
BOOK    II. 

Sacred  to  Virtue,  Honour,  and  Friendship. 


To  Her  Majefty. 

QUEEN  of  the  northern  world  whofe  gentle  fway 
Commands  our  love,  and  charms  our  hearts 
t'  obey, 
Forgive  the  nation's  groan  when  WILLIAM  dy'd: 
Lo,  at  thy  feet  in  all  the  loyal  pride 
Of  blooming  joy,  three  happy  realms  appear, 
And  WILLIAM'S  urn  almoft  without  a  tear 
Stands;  nor  complains  :  while  from  thy  gracious 

tongue 
Peace  flows  in  filver  ftreams  amidft  the  throng. 
Amazing  balm,  that  on  thofe  lips  was  found 
To  footh  the  torment  of  that  mortal  wound, 
And  calm  the  wild  affright !  the  terror  dies, 
The  bleeding  wound  cements,  the  danger  flies, 
And  Albion  fhouts  thine  honors  as  her  joys 

The  German  eagle  feels  her  guardian  dead, 
Not  her  own  thunder  can  fecure  her  head ; 

Her 


lies,     S- 
i  arife.  J 


i44        LYRIC    POEMS,    Book  II. 

Her  trembling  eaglets  haften  from  afar, 
And  Bclgia'slion  dreads  the  Gallick  war: 
All  hide  behind  thy  fhield.     Remoter  lands 
Whofe  lives  lay  trufted  in  NafTovian  hands, 
Transfer  their  fouls,  and  live  ;  fecure  they  play 
In  thy  mild  rays,  and  love  the  growing  day. 

Thy  beamy  wing  at  once  defends  and  warms 
Fainting  religion,  whilft  in  various  forms 
Fair  piety  mines  thro'  the  Britiih  ifles ; 
Here  at  thy  fide,  and  in  thy  kindeft  fmiles* 
Blazing  in  ornamental  gold  (he  (lands 
To  blefs  thy  councils,  and  affift  thy  hands, 
And  crowds  wait  round  her  to  receive  commands. 
There  at  a  humble  diftance  from  the  thronef 
Beauteous  Ihe  lies;  her  luftre  all  her  own, 
Ungarnifh'd  ;  yet  not  blufhing,  nor  afraid, 
Nor  knows  fufpicion,  nor  affects  the  (hade : 
Chearful  and  pleas'd  (he  not  prefumes  to  (hare 
In  thy  parental  gifts,  but  owns  thy  guardian  care. 
For  thee,  dear  fovereign,  endlefs  vows  arife, 
And  zeal  with  early  wing  falutes  the  fkies 
To  gain  thy  fafety :   here  a  folemn  form* 
Of  ancient  words  keeps  the  devotion  warm, 
And  guides,  but  bounds  our  wifhes  :  there  the  mindf 
Feels  its  own  fire,  and  kindles  unconfin'd 
With  bolder  hopes  :  yet  ftill  beyond  our  vows 
Thy  lovely  glories  rile,  thy  fpreading  terror  grows. 
Princess,  the  world  already  owns  thy  name: 
Go,  mount  the  chariot  of  immortal  fame, 
Nor  die  to  be  renown'd  :  fame's  loudeft  breath 
Too  dear  is  purchas'd  by  an  ange'ls  death. 
The  vengeance  of  thy  rod,  with  general  joy, 
Shall  fcourge  rebellion  and  the  rival  boy  :^ 

Thy 

*  The  ejtablijhed  Church  of  England. 

f  The  Vrotefiant  Dj/Jentcrs.      %  The  Pretender. 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.       145 


I 


Thy  founding  arms  his  gallic  patron  hears 
And  fpeeds  his  flight  nor  overtakes  his  fears, 
Till  hard  defpair  wring  from  the  tyrant's  foul 
The  iron  tears  out.     Let  thy  frown  controui 
Our  angry  Jarrs  at  home,  till  wrath  fubmit 
Her  impious  banners  to  thy  facred  feet. 
Mad  zeal  andphrenzy,  with  her  murderous  train, 
Flee-thefe  fweet  realms  in  thine  aufpicious  reign, 
Envy  expire  in  rage>  and  treafon  bite  the  chain. 

Let  no  black,  fcenes  affright  fair  Albion's  ft  age  : 
Thy  thread  of  life  prolong  our  golden  age, 
Longblefs  the  earth,  and  late  afcend  thy  throne 
Ethereal;   (not  by  deeds  are  there  unknown, 
Nor  there  unfung :  for  by  thine  awful  hands       *> 
Heaven  rules  the  waves,  and  thunders  o'er  the  / 
Lands,  f 

Creates  inferior  kings  f  8z  gives  'em  their  command  ,) 
Legions  attend  thee  at  the  radiant  gates; 
For  thee  thy  fifter-Seraph,  bleft  MARIA,  waits. 

But  oh  I  the  parting  ftroke  !  fome  heavenly  power 
Chear  thy  fad  Britons  in  the  gloomy  hoar; 
Some  new  propitious  ftar  appear  on  high 
The  faireft  glory  of  the  iveftem  Iky, 
And  ANNA  be  its  name  ;  with  gentle  fway 
To  check  the  planer^of  malignant  ray, 
Sooth  the  rude  north  wind,  and  the  rugged  Bear,  -> 
Calm  rifing  wars,  heal  the  contagious  air,  / 

And  reign  with  peaceful  influence  to  the  fouthern  r" 
fphere.  j 

Note,  This  poem  iv as   -written  in  the  year  1 705,   in 

that  honorable  part   of  the  reign  of  our   late  Qdeen^ 

■when  foe  had  broke  the  French  power  at  Blenheim, 

N  ajferied 

f  She   made  Charles,  the  emperor"  s   fecond  fon 
king  of  Spain,  who  is  now  emperor  of  Germany. 


146       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

ajerted  the  right  of  Charles  the  prefent  emperor,  to 
the  crown  o/Spain,  exerted  her  zeal  for  the  protectant 
fucceffion,  and  promifed  inviolably  to  maintain  the 
toleration  to  the  proteftant  dijfenters.  Thus  Jhe  ap- 
peared the  chief  fupport  of  the  reformation,  and  the 
patronefs  of  the  liberties  of  Europe. 

The  latter  part  of  her  reign  was  of  a  different  colour, 
and  -was  by  no  means  attended  with  the  accompliflmient 
of  thofe  glorious  hopes  which  we  had  conceived.  Now, 
the  mufe  cannot  fatisfy  h  erf  elf  to  pub  lift)  this  new  edition, 
■without  acknowledging  the  miftake  of her  former  prefages  : 
and  while  fie' does  the  world  thisjuftice,  Jhe  does  herfelf 
the  honour  of  a  voluntary  retraction.  Auguft  I,  172,1. 


PALI     NODI     A. 

BRITONS,  forgive  the  forward  mufe 
That  dar'd  prophetic  feals  to  loofe, 
(Unfldll'd  in  fate's  eternal  book,) 
And  the  deep  characters  miftook. 

GEORGE  is  the  name,  that  glorious  ftar; 
Ye  faw  his  fplendors  beaming  far; 
Saw  in  the  eaft  your  joys  arife, 
When  ANNA  funk  in  weftem  fkies, 
Streaking  the  heavens  with  crimfon  gloom, 
Emblems  of  Tyranny  and  Rome, 
Portending  blood  and  night  to  come. 
'Twas  GEORGE  dirfus'd  a  vital  ray, 
And  gave  the  dying  nations  day: 
His  influence  fooths  the  Ruffian  Bear, 
Calms  rifing  wars,  ani  heals  the  air; 
Join'd  with  the  fun  his  beams  are  hurl'd 
To  fcatter  bleffings  round  the  world, 
Fulfil  whate'er  the  mufe  has  fpoke, 
And  crown  the  work  that  ANNE  forfook. 

Aug-  Ii  17*1.  T( 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c.         147.- 

To  John  Locke 3  Efq;  retired  from  bufmefs. 
I. 

ANGELS  are  made  of  heavenly  things, 
And  light  and  love  our  fouls  compofe, 
Their  blifs  within  their  bofom  fprings, 

Within  their  bofom   flows. 
But  narrow  minds  ftill  make  pretence 
To  fearch  the  coafts  of  flelh  and  fenfe, 
And  fetch  diviner  pleafures  thence. 
Men  are  akin  to  ethereal  forms, 
But  they  belye  their  nobler  birth, 
Debafe  their  honour  down  to  earth, 

And  claim  a  fhare  with  worms. 
II. 
He  that  has  treafnres  of  his  own 
May  leave  the  cottage  or  the  throne, 
May  quit  the  globe,  and  dwell  alone 

Within  his  fpacious  mind. 
LOCKE  hath  a  foul  wide  as  the  fea, 
Calm  as  the  night,  bright  as  the  day, 
There  may  his  vaft  ideas  play, 

Nor  feel  a  thought  confin'd. 

To  JOHN  SEVTE,  Efq;   (now  Lord  BarringtonJ 

On  Mr.  Locke's  dangerous  Sicknefs,fome 
time  after  he  had  retired  to  /iudy  ths 
Scriptures. 

I.  June,  1704. 

AND  muft  the  man  of  wondrous  mind 
(Now  his  rich  thoughts  are  juft  refin'd) 
Forfake  our  longing  eyes? 

M  a  Rsafon 


148       LYRIC    POEMS.     Book  II- 

Reafon  at  length  fubmits  to  wear 
The  wings  of  faith;-  and  lo,  they  rear 
Her  chariot  high,  and  nobly  bear 

Her  prophet  to  the  fkies. 
If. 
Go,  friend,  and  wait  the  prophet's  flight, 
Watch  if  his  mantle  chance  to  light 

And  feize  it  for  thy  own; 
SHUTE  is  the  darling  of  his  years, 
Young  SHUTE  his  better  likenefs  bears, 
All  but  his  wrinkles  and  his  hairs 

Are  copv'd  in  his  fon. 
HI. 
Thus  when  our  follies  or  our  fau'ts 
Call  for  the  pity  of  thy  thoughts, 

Thy  pen  fhall  make  us  wife: 
The   failles  of  whofe  youthful   wit 
Could  pierce  the  Britifh  fogs  with  light, 
Place  our  true  *  inter  eft  in  our  fight, 

And  open  half  our  eyes. 

To  Mr.    WILLIAM    NOKES. 

Friendflrip* 

1703. 

FRIENDSHIP,  thou  charmer  of  the  mind, 
Thou  fweet  deluding  ill, 
The  brighter!  minute  mortals  find, 
And  fharpeft  hour  we  feel. 
II. 
Fate  has  divided  all  our  fhares 
Of  pleafure  and  of  pain; 

In 

*  The  intereji  of  England^  -written  by  J.  S.  Efp- 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  Sic.      149 

In  love  the  comforts  and  the  cares 
Are  mix'd  and  join'd  again. 
III. 
Bat  whilft  in  floods  our  forrow  rolls, 

And  drops  of  joy  are  few, 
This  dear  delight  of  mingling  fouls 
Serves  but  to  fwell  our  woe. 
IV. 
Oh!  why  mould  hlifs  depart  in  hafle4 

And  friendmip  flay  to  moan  ? 
Why  the  fond  paffion  cling  fo  faft, 
When  every  joy  is  gone  ? 
V. 
Yet  never  let  our  hearts  divide, 
Nor  death  diffolve  the  chain  : 
For  love  and  joy  were  once  aliy'd, 
And  muft  be  join'd  again. 

TO    NATHANIEL    GOULD    Efq; 

Now  Sir  NATHANIEL  GOULD. 

I.  "  1704* 

j  HP  IS  not  by  fplendour,  or  by  ftate, 

JL       Exalted  mein,  or  lofty  gait, 
My  mufe  takes  meafure  of  a  king  ? 
If  wealth,  or  height,  or  bulk  will  do, 
She  calls  each  mountain  of  Peru 

A  more  majeftic  thing. 
Frown  on  me,  friend,  if  e'er  I  boaft 
O'er  fellow  minds  enflav'd  in  clay, 
Or  fwell  when  I  fhall  have  engroft 
A  larger  heap  of  mining  duft, 
And  wear  a  bigger  load  of  earth  than  they. 
,     Let  the  vain  world  falute  me  loud, 
My  thoughts  look  inward,  and  forget 

N  3  The 


i5o       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

The  founding  names  of  high  and  great, 
The  flatteries  of  the  crowd. 
II. 
When   GOULD  commands  his  fhips  to  run 
And  fearch  the  traffick  of  the  fea, 
His  fleet  o'ertakes  the  falling  day, 
And  bears  the  ivefiern  mines  away, 
Or  richer  fpices  from  the  riling  fun; 
While  the  glad  tennants  of  the  lhore 
Shout,  and  pronounce  him  fenator,  * 

Yet.  frill  the  man's  the  fame: 
For  well  the  happy  merchant  knows 
The  foul  with  treafure  never  grows, 
Nor  fwells  with  airy  fame. 
III. 
But  truft  me,  GOULD,  'tis  lawful  pride 
To  rife  above  the  mean  controul 
Of  flefh  and  fenfe,  to  which  we're  ty'd; 
This  is  ambition  that  becomes  a  foul. 
We  fleer  our  courfe  up  thro'  the  fkies; 
Farewel  this  barren  land: 
We  ken  the  heavenly  fhore  with  longing  eyes. 
There  the  dear  wealth  of  fpirits  lies, 
And  beckoning  angels  ftand. 


To  Dr.     THOMAS     GIBSON. 

The  Life  of  Souls. 

I.  1704. 

SWIFT  as  the  fun  revolves  the  day 
We  hafren  to  the  dead, 
Slaves  to  the  wind  we  puff  away, 
And  to  the  ground  we  tread. 

'Tis 

*  Member  of  parliament  for  a  port  in  Suflex. 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        152 

*Tis  air  that  lends  us  life,  when  firft 

The  vital  bellows  heave: 
Our  flefh  we  borrow  of  the  duft; 
And  when  a  mother's  care  has  nurft 
The  babe  to  manly  fize,  we  muft 
With  ufury  pay  the  grave. 
II. 
Rich  juleps  drawn  from  precious  ore 

Still  tend  the  dying  flame  : 
And  plants,  and  roots,  of  barbarous  name, 

Torn  from  the  Indian  fhore. 
Thus  we  fupport  our  tott'ring  flefh, 
Our  cheeks  refume  the  rofe  afrefh, 
When  Bark  and  Steel  play  well  their  game 

To  fave  our  finking  breath, 
And  GIBSON,  with  his  awful  power, 
Refcues  the  poor  precarious  hour 
From  the  demands  of  death. 
III. 
But  art  and  nature,  pow'rs  and  charms9 
And  drugs,  and  recipes,  and  forms,  % 

Yield  us,  at  lair,  to  greedy  worms 
A  defpicable  prey; 
I'd  have  a  life  to  call  my  own, 
That  fhall  depend  on  heaven  alone; 

Nor  air,  nor  earth,  nor  fea, 
Mix  their  bale  efTences  with  mine, 
Nor  claim  dominion  fo  divine 
To  give  me  leave  to  be. 
IV. 
Sure  there's  a  mind  within,  that  reigns 
O'er  the  dull  current  of  my  veins: 
I   feel  the  inward  pulfe  beat  high 
With  vig'rous  immortality. 
Let  earth  refume  the  flefli  it  gave, 
And  breath  diflblve  amongfl  the  winds; 

GIBSON, 


15a        LYRIC  POEMS,     Book II. 

GIBSON,  the  things  that  fear  a  grave, 
That  I  can  lofe,  or  you  can  fave, 

Are  not  akin  to  minds. 
V. 
We  claim  acquaintance  with  the  fldeSj 
Upward  our  fpirits  hourly  rife, 

And  there  our  thoughts  employ : 
When  heaven  (hall  fign  our  grand  releafe, 
We  are  no  Grangers  to  the  place, 

The  bufinefs,  or  the  joy. 


Falfe  Greatnefs* 
I. 

MYLO,  forbear  to  call  him  blefr. 
That  only  boafts  a  large  eftate, 
Should  all  the  treafures  of  the  -weft 
Meet,  and  confpire  to  make  him  great. 
I  know  thy  better  thoughts,  1  know 
Thy  reafon  can't  defcend  fo  low. 
Let  a  broad  ftream   with  golden  fands 

Thro'  all  his  meadows  roll, 
He's  but  a  wretch,  with  all  his  lands, 
That  wears  a  narrow  foul. 
II. 
He  fwells  amidft  his  wealthy  ftore, 
And  proudly  poizing  what  he  weighs, 
In  his  own  fcale  he  fondly  lays 

Huge  heaps  of  (hining  ore. 
He  fpreads  the  bailance  wide  to  hold 

His  manois  and  his  farms, 
And  cheats  the  beam  with  loads  of  gold 

He  hugs  between  his  arms, 
So  might  the  plough  boy  climb  a  tree, 

When  Cisefus  mounts  his  throne, 
And  both  ftand  up.  and  fmile  to  fee 
How  long  their  ihadow's  grown.  Alas  I 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c,       153 

Alas!  how  vain  their  fancies  be 

To  think  that  fhape  their  own! 
III. 
Thus  mingled  ftill  with  wealth  and  flate, 
Crasfus  himfelf  can  never  know; 
His  true  dimenfions  and  his  weight 

-Are  far  inferior  to  their  fhow. 
Were  I  fo  tall  to  reach  the  pole, 
Or  grafp  the  ocean  with  my  fpan, 
I  muil  be  meafur'd  by  my  foul  : 
The  mind's  the  ftandard  of  the  man. 

To  SJRISSJ.     An  EPISTLE. 

BE  AR  up  SARISSA,  thro'  the  ruffling  ftorms 
Of  a  vain  vexing  world  ;   tread  down  the  cares 
Thofe  ragged  thorns  that  lie  acrofs  the  road, 
Nor  lpend  a  tear  upon  them.     Truft  the  mufe, 
She  hugs  experiene'd  truth  :  this  briny  dew, 
This  rain  of  eyes  will  make  the  briars  grow. 
We  travel  thro'  a  defert,  and  our  feet 
Have  meafur'd  a  fair  fpace,  have  left  behind 
A  thoufand  dangers,  and  athoufand  fnares 
Well  fcap'd.     Adieu,  ye  horrors  of  the  dark, 
Ye  finhh'd  labours,  and  ye  tedious  toils 
Of  days  and  hours  :  The  twinge  ofrealfmart. 
And  the  falfe  terrors  of  ill-boding  dreams 
Vani(h  together,  be  alike  forgot, 
For  ever  blended  in  one  common  grave. 

Farewel,  ye  waxing  and  ye  waning  moons, 
That  we  have  watch'd  behind  the  flying  clouds 
Oil  night's  dark  hill,  or  fetting  or  afcending, 
Or  in  meridian  height :  Then  filence  reign'd 
O'er  half  the  world ;  then  ye  beheld  our  tears," 
Ye  witnefs'd  our  complaints,  our  kindred  groans, 
(Sad  harmony!)  while  with  your  beamy  horns 


i54      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

Of  richer  orb  ye  filver'd  o'er  the  green 

Where  trod  our  feet,  and  lent  a  feeble  light 

To  mourners.     Now  ye  have  fulfill'd  your  round, 

Thofe  hours  are  fled,  farewel.  Months  that  are  gone 

Are  gone  for  ever,  and  have  borne  away 

Each  his  own  load.     Our  woes  and  forrows  pafl, 

Mountainous  woes,   flill  leiTen  as  they  fly 

Far  off.   So  billows  in  a  ftormy  fea, 

Wave  after  wave  (a  long  fuccefllon)  roll 

Beyond  the  ken  of  fight:  the  failors  fafe 

Look  far  a  ftern  till  they  have  loft  the  ftorm ; 

And  fhout  their  boifterous  joys.     A  gentler  mufc 

Sings  thy  dear  fafety,  and  commands  thy  cares 

To  dark  oblivion;   bury'd  deep  in  night 

Lofe  them  SAR1SSA,  and  affift  my  fong. 

Awake  thy  voice,  fing  how  the  flender  line 
Of  fate's  immortal  NOW  divides  the  pad 
From  ail  the  future,  with  eternal  bars 
Forbidding  a  return.     The  paft  temptations 
No  more  fhall  vex  us;  every  grief  we  feel 
Shortens  the  deftin'd  number;   every  pulfe 
Beats  a  fharp  moment  of  the  pain  away, 
And  the  laft  itroke  will  come.     By  fwift  degrees 
Time  fweeps  us  off;   and  we  fhall  foon  arrive 
At  life's  fvveet  period;   O  celeftial  point 
That  ends  this  mortal  ftory  ! 

But  if  a  glimpfe  of  light  with  flattering  ray 
Breaks  thro'  the  clouds  of  life,  or  wandring  fire 
Amidft  the  fhades  invite  your  doubtful  feet, 
Beware  the  dancing  meteor  :  faithlefs  guide, 
That  leads  the  lonefome  pilgrim  wide  aftray 
To  bogs  and  fens,  and  pits,  and  certain  death! 
Should  vicious  pleafuretake  an  angel  form 
And  at  a  diftance  rife  by  flow  degrees, 
Treacherous,  to  wind  herfelf  into  your  heart, 
Stand  firm  aloof;  nor  let  the  gaudy  phantom 
Too  long  allure  your  gaze;  the  juft  delight       That 


Sacred  to  Vi R TU E,  &c.        1 55 

That  heaven  indulges  lawful,  mult  obey 
Superior  powers;  nor  tempt  your  thoughts  too  far 
In  flavery  to  fenfe,  nor  fwell  your  hope 
To  dang'rous  fize :  if  it  approach  your  feet  _ 
And  court  your  hand,  forbid  th'  intruding  joy 
To  fit  too  near  your  hear,t :  ftill  may  our  fouls 
Claim  kindred  with  the  fkies,  nor  mix  with  duft 
Our  better  born  affe&ions;  leave  the  globe 
A  neft  for  worms,  and  haften  to  our  home. 

O  there  are  gardens  of  th'  immortal  kind 
That  crown  the  heavenly  Eden's  rifing  hills 
With  beauty  and  with  fweets  ;  no  lurking  mifchief 
Dwells  in  the  fruit,  nor  ferpent  twines  the  boughs; 
The  branches  bend  laden  with  life  and  blifs 
Ripe  for  the  tafte,  but  'tis  a  deep  afcent : 
Hold  faft:  the  *  golden  chain  let  down  from  heav'n, 
'Twill  help  your  feet  and  wings ;   I  feel  its  force 
Draw  upwards;  faften'd  to  the  pearly  gate 
It  guides  the  way  unerring :  happy  clue 
Thro'  this  dark  wild !  'twas  wifdom's  noblefl  work, 
All  join'd  by  power  divine,  and  ev'ry  link  is  love. 


To  Mr.  T.     BRADBURY. 
Paradife* 

I.  1708. 

YOUNG  as  I  am  I  quit  the  ftage, 
Nor  will  I  know  th'  applaufes  of  the  age; 
Farewel  to  growing  fame.     I  leave  below 
A  life  not  half  worn  out  with  cares, 
Or  agonies,  or  years; 
I  leave  my  country  all  in  tears, 
But  heaven  demands  me  upward,  and  I  dare  to  go. 

Amongft 


The  Gojpcl. 


i$6       LYRIC    POEMS,    Book  II. 

Amongft  ye,  friends,  divide  and  (hare 

The  remnant  of  my  days, 
If  ye  have  patience,   and  can  bear 
A  long  fatigue  of  life,  and  drudge  thro'  all  the  race. 
II. 
Hark,  my  fair  guardian  chides  my  flay, 

And  waves  his  golden  rod; 
"  Angel,  I  come;  lead  on  the  way: 

And  now  by  fwift  degrees 
I  fail  aloft  thro'  azure  feas, 

Now  tread  the  milky  road : 
Farewel,  ye  planets,  in  your  fpheres: 
And  as  the  ftars  are  loft,  a  brighter  iky  appears. 

In  hafte  for  paradife 
I  ftretch  the  pinions  of  a  bolder  thought; 

Scarce  had  I  will'd,  but  I  was  patt 
Dcferts  of  tracklefs  light  and  all  th'  ethereal  wafte, 

And  to  the  facred  borders  bro't; 
There  on  the  wing  a  guard  of  cherubs  lies, 

Each  waves  a  keen  flame  as  he  flies, 
And  well  defends  the  walls  from  liege*  and  furprize. 
III. 
With  pleafing  rev'rence  1  behold 
The  pearly  portals  wide  unfold: 
Enter,  my  foul,  and  view  th'  amazing  fcenes; 
Sit  faft  upon  the  flying  mufe, 
And  let  thy  roving  wonder  loofc 
O'er  all  th'  empyreal  plains. 
Noon  ftands  eternal  here:  here  may  thy  fight 
Drink  in  the  rays  of  pvimogenial  light; 
Here  breathe  immortal  air; 
Joy  muft  beat  high  in  ev'ry  vein, 
Pleafure  thro'  all  thy  bofom  reign; 
The  laws  forbid  the  ftranger,  pain, 
And  banifh  every  care. 

IV: 


Sacred  ft  Virtue,  &c.        157 

IV. 

See  how  the  bubbling  fprings  of  love 
Beneath  the  throne  arife ; 

The  dreams  in  cryftal  channels  move, 

Around  the  golden  ftreets  they  rove, 
And  blefs  the  manfions  of  the  upper  fkies. 

There  a  fair  grove  of  knowledge  grows, 

Nor  fin  nor  death  infects  the  fruit; 

Young  life  hangs  frefh  on  all  the  boughs5 
And  fprings  from  every  root; 

Here  may  thy  greedy  fenfes  feaft 
While  extacy  and  health  attends  on  every  tafte. 

With  the  fair  proipeft  charm'd  I  flood; 
Fearlefs  I  feed  on  the  delicious  fare, 
And  drink  profufe  falvation  from  the  filver  flood. 

Nor  can  excefs  be  there. 

V. 

In  facred  order  rang'd  along 

Saints  nevv-releas'd  by  death 
Join  the  bold  feraph's  warbling  breath, 

And  aid  the  immortal  fong. 
Each  has  a  voice  that  tunes  his  firings 
To  mighty  founds,  and  mighty  things, 

Things  of  everlafring  weight, 
Sounds,  like  the  fofter  viol,  fweet, 

And,  like  the  trumpet,  ftrong. 
Divine  attention   held  my  foul, 
I  was  all  ear! 
Thro'  all  my  pow'rs  the  heavenly  accents  roll. 
I  Iong'd  and  wifh'd  my  BRADBURY  there j 
"  Could  he  but  hear  thefe  notes,  I  faid, 
"  His  tuneful  foul  wou'd  never  bear 
The  dull  unwinding  of  life's  tedious  thread, 
*'  But  burft  the  vital  chords  to  reach  the  happy  dead. 

O  VI. 


158       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

VI. 

And  now  my  tongue  prepares  to  join 
The  harmony,   and  with  a  noble  aim 

Attempts  th'  unutterable  name, 
But  faints,   confounded  by  the  notes  divine: 
Again   my  foul  th'  unequal  honour  fought, 

Again   her  utmoft  force  (he  brought, 
And  bow'd  beneath  the  burden  of  th'  unweildy  tho't, 

^  Thrice  I  ellay'd,  and  fainted  thrice-, 
Th'  immortal  labour  ftrain'd  my  feeble  frame, 
Broke  the  bright  vifion,  and  diiTolv'd  the  dream: 
I  funk  at  once  and  loft  the  fkies : 
In  vain   I  fought  the  fcenes  of  light 
Rolling  abroad  my  longing  eyes, 
For  all  around  'em  flood  my  curtains  and  the  night. 


Stri6i   Religion   very  rare. 

I'M  borne  aloft,  and  leave  the  crowd, 
I  fail  upon  a  morning  cloud 
Skirted  with  dawning  gold; 
Mine  eyes  beneath   the  opening  day 
Commaqd  the  globe  with   wide  furvey, 
Where  ants  in  bufy  millions  play, 
And  tug  and  heave  the  mould. 

»■ 

"   Are  thefe  the  things  (my  paffion  cry'd) 
"  That  we  call  men?  Are  thefe  ally'd 

"  To  the  fair  worlds  of  light? 
"  They  have  ras'd  out  their  Maker's  name, 
"   Grav'n  on   their  minds  with  pointed  flame 

"  In  ftrokes  divinely  bright. 
III. 
"  Wretches!  they  hate  their  native  ikies; 
««  If  an  ethereal  thought  arife,  "  Or 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c.      159 

"  Or  fpark  of  vertue  mine, 
"  With  cruel  force  they  damp  its  plumes, 
"  Choke  the  young  fire  with  fenfual  fumes, 

"  With  bufinefs,  luft  or  wine. 
IV. 
"  Lo!  how  they  throng  with  panting  breath 

"  The  broad   defcending  road 
*'  That  leads  unerring  down  to  death, 

"  Nor  mifs  the  dark  abode. 
Thus  while  I  drop  a  tear  or  two 
On  the  wild  herd,  a  noble  few 
Dare  to  ftray  upward,  and  purfue 

Th'  unbeaten  way  to  God. 
V. 
I  meet  Myrtillo  mounting  high, 
I  know  his  candid  foul  afar; 
Here  Dorylus  and  Thyrfis  fly 

Each   like  a  rifing  ftar, 
Charin   I  faw  and  Fidea  there, 
I  faw  them  help  each  other's  flight, 

And  blefs  them  as  they  go; 
They  foar  beyond  my  lab'ring  fight, 
And  leave  their  loads  of  mortal  care, 

But  not  their  love  below. 
On  heav'n,  their  home,  they  fix  their  eyes, 

The  temple  of  their  God: 
With  morning  incenfe  up  they  rife 
Sublime,   and  thro'  the  lower  fkies 

Spread  the  perfumes  abroad. 
VI. 
Acrofs  the  road  a  feraph   flew, 
"  Mark  (faid  he)  that  happy  pair, 
"  Marriage  helps  devotion   there; 
tl  When  kindred  minds  their  God  purfue 
"  They  break  with  double  vigour  thro' 

"  The  dull  incumbent  air. 

O  a  Charmed 


i6o     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

Charm'd  with  the  pleafure  and  furprize 

My  foul  adores  and  fings, 
«'  Bleft  be  the  power  that  fprings  their  flight, 
*'  That  (freaks  their  path  with  heavenly  light, 
•*  That  turns  their  love  to  facrifice, 

"  And  joins  their  zeal  for  wings, 


To  Mr,  C,  and  S.  Fleetwood. 

FLEETWOODS,  young  generous  pair, 
Defpife  the  joys  tl  at  fools  purfue; 
Bubbles  are  light  and  btittle  too, 
Born  of  the  water  and  the  air, 

Try'd   by  a   ftan.ia  d  bold   and  juft 
Honour  and  gold  are   paint  and  duft; 
How  vile  the  laft  is,   and  as  vain  the  firfV? 
Things  that  the  crowd  call  great   and  brave. 

With  me  how  low  their  values  brought? 
Titles  and  names,  and  life  and  breath, 
Slaves  to  the  wind  and   born  for  death.; 
The  foul's  the  only  thing   we  have 
Worth  an  important  thought. 

II. 
The  foul!  'tis  of  the  immortal  kind, 
Nor  form'd  of  fire,  or  earth  or  wind, 
Out-lives    the    mouldring  corps,    and    leaves    the 
globe  behind. 
In  limbs  of  clay  tho'  fhe  appears, 
Array'd  in  rofy  fkin,  and  deck'd  with  ears  and  eyes, 

The  fkfh  is  but  the  foul's  difguife, 
There's  nothing  in  her  frame  kin  to  the  drefs  fhe 
wears : 
From  all  the  laws  of  matter  free, 

From 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.      161 

From  all  we  feel,  and  all  we  Tee, 
She  ftands  eternally  diftinct,  and  mud  for  ever  be* 
III. 
Rife  then,  my  thoughts,  on  high, 
Soar  beyond  all  that's  made  to  die; 
Lo!  on  an  awful  throne 
Sits  the  creator  and  the  judge  of  fouls, 

Whirling  the  planets  round  the  poles, 
Winds  off  our  threads  of  life,  and  brings  our  peri- 
ods on. 
Swift  the  approach,  and  folemn  is  the  day, 
When  this  immortal  mind 
Stript  of  the  body's  coarfe  array 
To  endlefs  pain  or  endlefs  joy 
Muft  be  at  once  confin'd. 
IV. 
Think  of  the  fands  run  down  to  wafte, 
We  pofTefs  none  of  all  the  part, 
None  but  the  prefent  is  our  own  ; 
Grace  is  not  plac'd  within  our  power, 
'Tis  but  one  ihort,  one  mining  hour, 
Bright  and  declining  as  a  fetting  fun, 

See  the  white  minutes  wing'd  with  hafte| 
The  NOW  that  flies  may  be  the  laftj 
Seize  the  falvation  e'er  'tis  part, 
Nor  mourn  the  bleilings  gone ; 
A  thought's  delay  is  ruin  here, 
A  clofing  eye,  a  gafping  breath, 
Shuts  up  the  golden  fcene  in  death, 
And  drowns  you  in  defpair. 


To 


1 62     LYRIC   POEMS,     Book  II. 
To   William   Blackbourn,   Efq; 

Cafimir.  Lib.  1.  Od.  2.  imitated. 
H?h<&  tegit  canas  mo&o  Bntma  valles,  &c. 

MARK  how  it  fnows  !  how  faft  the  valley  fills ! 
Andthefweet  groves  the  hoary  garment  wear  ; 
Yet  the  warm  fun  beams  bounding  from  the  hills 
Shall  melt  the  vail  away,  and  the  young    greeu 
appear. 

II. 
But  when  old  age  has  on  your  temples  fried 
Her  filver  froft,  there's  no  returning  fun; 
Swift  flies  our  autumn,  fwift  our  fummer's  fled, 
When   youth,  and  love,  and  fpring,    and  golden 
joys  are  gone. 

HI. 
Then  cold,  and  winter,  and  your  aged  fnow, 
Stick  fart:  upon  you;  not  the  rich  array, 
Not  the  green  garland,  nor  the  rofy  bough 
Shall  cancel  or  conceal  the  melancholy  grey. 

IV. 
The  chafe  of  pleafure  is  not  worth  the  pains, 
While  the  bright  fands  of  health  run  wafting  down; 
And  honour  calls  you  from  the  fofter  fcenes, 
To  feli  the  gaudy  hour  forages  of  renown. 

V. 
"I«ts  but  one  youth,  and  fhort,  that  mortals- have, 
And  one  old  age  difTolves  our  feeble  frame; 
But  there's  a  heavenly  art  t'  elude  the  grave, 
And  with  the  hero  race  immortal  kindred  claim. 

VI. 
The  man  that  has  his  country's  (acred  tears 
Bedewing  his  cold  hearfe,  has  liv'd  his  day  : 

Thus, 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.         163 

Thus,  BLACKBOURN,  we  fliould leave  our  names 

or  heir 
Old  time  and  waning  moons  fweep  all  the  reft  away.i 

True   Monarchy. 

1 701. 

THE  rifing  year  beheld  th*  imperious  Gaul 
Stretch  his  dominion,  while  a  hundred  towns 
Crouch'd  to  the  victor:  but  a  ftcady  foul 
Stands  firm  on  Its  own  bafe,  and  reigns  as  wide, 
As  abfolute;   and  fways  ten  thoufand  flaves, 
Lufts  and  wild  fancies  with  a  fovereign  hand. 

We  are  a  little  kingdom ;  but  the  man 
That  chains  his  rebel  will  to  reafon's  throne, 
Forms  it  a  large  one,  whilft  his  royal  mind 
Makes  heaven  its  council,  from  the  rolls  above 
Draws  his  own  ftatutes,  and  with  joy  obeys. 

'Tis  not  a  troop  of  well  appointed  guards 
Create  a  monarch,  nor  a  purple  robe 
Dy'd  in  the  people's  blood,  not  all  the  crowns 
Or  dazling  tiars  that  bend  about  the  head, 
Tho'  gilt  with  fun  -beams  and  fet  round  with  ftars, 
A  monarch  he  that  conquers  all  his  fears, 
And  treads  upon  them;   when  he  ftands  alone, 
Makes  his  own  camp;  four  guardian  virtues  wait 
His  nightly  flumbers,  and  fecure  his  dreams. 
Now  dawns  the  light;   he  ranges  all  his  thoughts- 
In  fquare  battalions,  bold  to  meet  th'  attacks 
Of  time  and  chance,  himfelf  a  num'rous  hoft, 
All  eye,  all  ear,  all  wakeful  as  the  day, 
Firm  as  a  rock,  and  moveiefs  as  the  centre. 

In  vain  the  harlot,  pleafure,  fpreads  her  charms, 
To  lull  his  thoughts  in  luxury's  fair  lap, 
To  fenfual  eafe,  (the  bane  of  little  kings, 
Monarch s  whole  waxen  images  of  fouls 

Are. 


1(54      LYRIC  POEMS,    Book II- 

Are  molded  into  foftnefs)  ftill  his  mind 
Wears  its  own  fhape,   nor  can  the  heavenly  form 
Stoop  to  be  modell'd  by  the  wild  decrees 
Of  the  mad  vulgar,  that  unthinking  herd. 

He  lives  above  the  crowd,  nor  hears  the  noife 
Of  wars  and  triumphs,  nor  regards  the  (bouts 
Of  popular  applaufe,  that  empty  found; 
Nor  feels  the  flying  arrows  of  reproach, 
Or  fpite  or  envy.     In  himfelf  fecure, 
Wifdom  his  tower,  and  confidence  is  his  fhield, 
His  peace  all  inward,  and  his  joys  his  own. 

Now  my  ambition  fwells,   my  wilhes  foar, 
This  be  my  kingdom;   fit  above  the  globe 
My  rifing  foul,  and  drefs  thyfelf  around, 
And  fhine  in  vertue's  armour,  climb  the  height 
Of  wifdom's  lofty  caftle,  there  refide 
Safe  from  the  fmiling  and  the  frowning  world. 

Yet  once  a  day  drop  down  a  gentle  look 
On  the  great  mole-hill,  and  with  pitying  eye 
Survey  the  bufy  emmets  round  the  heap, 
Crouding  and  hurtling  in  a  thoufand  forms 
Of  ftrife  and  toil,  to  purchafe  wealth  and  fame, 
A  bubble  or  a  duft:  then  call  thy  thoughts 
Up  to  thyfelf  to  feed  on  joys,  unknown, 
Rich  without  gold,  and  great  without  renown. 


True  Courage. 

HONOUR  demands  my  fong.  Forget  the  ground! 
My  generous  mufe,  and  fit  amongft  the  (tars, 
There  fing  the  foul     that,  confcious  of  her  birth, 
Lives  like  a  native  of  the  vital  world, 
Amongft  thefe  dying  clods,  and  bears  her  ftate 
Juft  to  herfelf  :   how  nobly  fhe  maintains 
Her  character,  iuperior  to  the  ilclh, 

She 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &<:•       165 

She  wields  her  paflions  like  her  limbs,  and  knows 
The  brutal  powers  were  only  born  t'  obey. 

This  is  the  man  whom  florins  could  never  make 
Meanly  complain;  nor  can  a  flatt'ring  gale 
Make  him  talk  proudly ;  he  hath  no  defire 
To  read  his  fecret  fate;  yet  unconcern'd 
And  calm  could  meet  his  unborn  deftiny, 
In  all  its  charming,  or  its  frightful  fhapes. 

He  that  unfhrinking,  and  without  a  groan, 
Bears  the  firft  wound,  may  finifh  all  the  war 
With  meer  courageous  filence,  and  come  off 
Conqueror:   for  the  man  that  well  conceals 
The  heavy  ftrokes  of  fate,  he  bears  'em  well. 

He,  tho'  th'  Atlantic  and  the  Midland  feas 
With  adverfe  furges  meet,   and  rife  on  high 
Sufpended  'twixt  the  winds,  then  rufh  amain 
Mingled  with  flames,  upon  his  fingle  head, 
And  clouds,  and  ftars,  and  thunder,  firm  he  fiands5 
Secure  of  his  belt  life;  unhurt,  unmov'd; 
And  drops  his  lower  nature,  born  for  death. 
Then  from  the  lofty  caftle  of  his  mind 
Sublime  looks  down,  exulting,  and  furveys 
The  ruins  of  creation  ;    (fouls  alone 
Are  heirs  of  dying  -worlds;  )  a  piercing  glance 
Shoots  upwards  from  between  his  doling  lids. 
To  reach  his  birth-place,  and  without  a  figh 
He  bids  his  batter'd  fkfh  lie  gently  down 
Amongft  its  native  rubbifh;   while  the  fpirit 
Breathes  and  flies  upwards,   an  undoubted  gueft 
Of  the  third  heaven,  th'  unruinable  Iky. 

Thither,  when  fate  has  brought  our  willing  fouls. 
No  matter  whether  'twas  a  (harp  difeafe, 
Or  a  fharp  fword.   that  help'd  the  travellers  on, 
And  pufh'd  us  to  our  home.     Bear  up,   my  friend. 
Serenely,  and  break  thro'  the  ftormy  brine 
With  fieady  prow;  know,  ye  (hail  once  arrive 

At. 


166        LYRIC    POEMS,    Book  II. 

At  the  fair  haven  of  eternal  blifs, 

To  which  we  ever  fteer;  whether  as  kings 

Of  wide  command  we've  fpread  the  fpacious  fea 

With  a  broad  painted  fleet,  or  row'd  along 

In  a  thin  cock-boat  with  a  little  oar. 

There  let  my  narrow  plank  fliift  me  to  land 
And  I'll  be  happy  :  thus  I'll  leap  alhore 
Joyful  and  feailefs  on  th'  immortal  coaft, 
Since  all  I  leave  is  mortal,  and  it  muft  be  loft. 


To  the  much  Honoured  Mr.  THOMAS  ROWE. 
The  Director  of  my  Youthful  Studies, 

Free  Phihfophy. 
I. 

CUSTOM,  that  tyrannefs  of  fools, 
That  leads  the.learned  round  the  fchools, 
In  magic  chains  of  forms  and  rules! 

My  genius  (torms  her  throne: 
No  more,  ye  (laves,   with  awe  profound 
Beat  the  dull  track,  nor  dance  the  round; 
Loofe  hands.,  and  quit  th'  inchanted  ground: 

Knowledge  invites  us  each  alone. 
II. 
I  hate  thefe  (hackles  of  the  mind 

Forg'd  by  the  haughty   wife; 
Souls  were  not  born  to  be  confin'd, 
And  led,  like  Sampfon,  blind   and  bound; 
But  when  his  native  fhength  he  found 

He   well  aveng'd   his  eyes. 
I  love  thy  gentle  influence,   ROWE, 
Thy  gentle  influence  like  the  fun, 
Only  di(To!ves  the  frozen  fnow, 
Then  bids  our  thoughts  like  rivers  flow, 
And  chufe  the  channels  where  they  run. 

III. 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        16? 
in. 

Thoughts  mould  he  free  as  fire  or  windj 
The  pinions  of  a  fingle  mind 

Will  thro'  all  nature  fly: 
But  who  can  drag  up  to  the  poles 
Long  fetter'd  ranks  of  leaden  ibuls? 
A  genius  which  no  chain  controuls 
Roves  with  delight,  or  deep,  or  high; 
Swift  T  furvey  the  globe  around, 
Dive  to  the  centre  thro'  the  folid  ground, 

Or  travel  o^er  the  iky. 


To  the  Reverend  Mr.     BENONI     ROWE. 
The  way  of  the  Multitude. 

I. 

ROWE,  if  we  make  the  crowd  our  guide 
Thro'  life's  uncertain  road, 
Mean  is  the  chafe;  and  wandering  wide 

We  mifs  th'  immortal  good; 
Yet  if  my  thoughts  could  be  confin'd 
To  follow  any  leader  mind, 
I'd  mark  thy  fteps,  and  tread  the  fame: 
Dreft  in  thy  notions  I'd  appear 
Not  like  a  foul  of  mortal  frame, 
Nor  with  a  vulgar  air. 
II. 
Men  live  at  random  and  by  chance, 
Bright  reafon   never  leads  the  dance; 
Whilft  in  the-  broad  and  beaten   way 

O'er  dales  and  hills  from  truth   we  ftray, 
To  ruin   we  defcend,   to  ruin  we  advance. 
Wifdom  retires ;  flie  hates  the  crowd, 
And  with  a  decent  fcorn 

Aloof 


1 68       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

Aloof  (he  climbs  her  fteepy  feat, 
Where  nor  the  grave  not  giddy  feet, 
Of  the  learn'd  vulgar  or  the  rude, 

Have  e'er  a  palTage  worn. 
III. 
Meer  hazard  firft  began  the  track, 
Where  cuftom  leads  her  thoufands  blind 

In   willing  chains  and  ftrong; 
There's  fcarce  one  bold,  one  noble  mind, 
Dares  tread  the  fatal  error  back; 
But  hand  in  hand  ourfelves  we  bind 

And  drag  the  age  along. 
IV. 
Mortals,  a  favage  herd,  and  loud 
As  billows  on  a  noify  flood 

In   rapid  order  roll  : 
Example  makes  the  mifchief  good: 
With  jocund  heel  we  beat  the  road, 

Unheedful  of  the  goal. 
Me  let  *   IthurieFs  friendly  wing 
Snatch  from  the  crowd,  aud  bear  fublime 

To  wifdom's.  lofty  tower, 
Thence  to  furvey  that  wretched  thing, 
Mankind;  and  in   exalted  rhime 

Blefs  the  delivering  power. 


To  the  Reverend  Mr.  JOHN  HOWE. 
I.  1704. 

Gl  RE  AT  man,  permit  the  mufe  to  climb 
T   And  feat  her  at  thy  feet, 
Bid  her  attempt  a  thought  iublime, 

And  confecrate  her  wit.  I  feel 


*  Ithuriel  is  the  name  of  an  angel  hi  Milton's  para- 
dife  loft. 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        169 

I  feel,  I  feel  th'  attractive  force 

Of  thy  fuperior  foul; 
My  chariot  flies  her  upward  courfe, 

The  wheels  divinely  roll. 
Now  let  me  chide  the  mean  affairs 

And  mighty  toil  of  men: 
How  they  grow  grey  in  trifling  cares, 
Or  wade  the  motions  of  the  fpheres 

Upon  delights  as  vain ! 
II. 

A  Puff  of  honour  fills  the  mind, 
And  yellow  duft  is  folid  good  ; 
Thus  like  the  afs  of  favage  kind, 
We  fnuff  the  breezes  of  the  wind, 

Or  ileal  the  ferpent's  food. 
Could  all  the  choirs 
That  charm  the  poles 

But  flrike  one  doleful  found, 
?TwouId  be  employ'd  to  mourn  our  fouls, 
Souls  that  were  fram'd  of  fprightly  fires 

In  floods  of  folly  drown'd. 
Souls  made  of  glory  feek  a  brutal  joy; 

How  they  difclaim  their  heavenly  birth, 
Melt  their  bright  fubftance  down  with  drofly  earth. 
And  hate  to  be  refin'd  from  that  impure  alloy. 

III. 
Oft  has  thy  genius  rous'd  us  hence 

With  elevated  fong, 
Bid  us  renounce  this  world  of  fenfe, 
Bid  us  divide  th'  immortal  prize 

With   the  feraphic  throng : 
"■**  Knowledge  and  love  makes  fpirits  bleft, 
"  Knowledge  their  food,  and  love  their  reft; 
But  flelh,  tli'  unmanageable^  beaft, 
Refills  the  pity  of  thine  eyes, 

And  mufic  of  thy  tongue, 

P  Then 


170      LYRIC    POEMS,      Book  II. 

Then  let  the  worms  of  groveling  mind 
Round  the  (hort  joys  of  earthly  kind 

In  reftlefs  windings  roam  ; 
HOWE  hath  an  ample  orb  of  foul, 
Where  mining  worlds  of  knowledge  roll, 
Where  love  the  centre  and  the  pole 

Compleats  the  heaven  at  home. 

The  D  if  appointment  and  Relief. 
I. 

VERTUE,  permit  my  fancy  to  impofc 
Upon  my  better  pow'rs : 
She  cafts  fweet  fallacies  on  half  our  woes, 

And  gilds  the  gloomy  hours. 
How  could  we  bear  this  tedious  round 
Of  waining  moons,  and  rolling  years, 
Of  flaming  hopes,  and  chilling  fears, 
Jf  (where  no  fovereign  cure  appears) 
No  opiates    could  be  found. 
II. 
Love,  the  moft  cordial  ftream  that  flows, 
Is  a  deceitful  good : 
Young  Doris,  who  nor  guilt  nor  danger  knows, 

On  the  green  margin  flood, 
Pleas'd  with  the  golden  bubbles  as  they  rofe, 
And  with  more  golden  fands  her  fancy  pav'd  the 
flood  ; 
Then  fond  to  be  entirely  bleft, 
And  tempted  by  a  faithlefs  youth, 
As  void  of  goodnefs  as  of  truth, 
She  plunges  in  with  heedlefs  hafte, 

And  rears  the  nether  mud  : 
Darknefs  and  naufeous  dregs  arife 
O'er  thy  fair  current,  love,  with  large  fupplies 
Of  pain  to  teaze  the  heart,  and  forrow  for  the  eyes. 

The 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        171 

The  golden  blifs  that  charm'd  her  fight 

Is  dafh'd  and  drown'd,  and  loft  : 
A  fpark,  or  glimmering  ftreak  at  raoft, 
Shines  here  and  there  amidft  the  night, 
Amidft  the  turbid  waves,  and  gives  a  faint  delights 
III. 
Recover'd  from  the  fad  fin-prize,. 

Doris  awakes  at  laft, 
Grown  by  the  difappointment  wife; 
And  manages  with  art  th'  unlucky  caft  ;. 
When  the  lowring  frown  (he  fpies 
On  her  haughty  tyrant's  brow, 
With  humble  love  Ihe  meets  his  wrathful  eyes, 

And  makes  her  fovereign  beauty  bow; 
Chearful  (he  fmiles  upon  her  grizly  form; 
So  mines  the  fetting  fun  on  adverfe  fkies, 

And  paints  a  rainbow  on  the  ftorm. 
Anon  (he  lets  the  fullen  humour  fpend, 
And  with  a  virtuous  book,  or  friend, 

Beguiles  th'  uneafy  hours: 
Well-colouring  every  crofs  (he  meets, 
With  heart  ferene  (he  fleeps  and  eats, 
She  fpreads  her  board  with  fancy'd  fvveets, 
And  ftrows  her  bed  with  flow'rs. 

The  Hero's  School  of  Morality, 
1. 

THE  RON,  amongft  his  travels,  found, 
A  broken  ftatue  on  the  ground; 
And  fearching  onward,   as  he  went 
He  trac'd  a  ruin'd  monument. 
Mould,  mofs,  and  (hades  had  overgrown 
The  fculpture  of  the  crumbling  ftone, 
Yet,  e'er  he  paft,   with  much  ado, 
He  guefs'd,  and  ipell'd  out,  Sci-pi-o. 

Pi  "  Enough Sj 


172       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

"  Enough,  he  cry'd;   I'll  drudge  no  more 
"    In  turning  the  dull  rtoicks  o'er  : 
*'  Let  pedants  wafte  their  hours  of  eafe 
«'  To  fweat  all  night  at  Socrates; 
«'   And  feed  their  boys  with  notes  and  rules, 
"   Thofe  tedious  recipes  of  fchools 
«'  To  cure  ambition  :   I  can   learn 
*•'  With  greater  eafe,  the  great  concern 
'*  Of  mortals;  how  we  may  defpife 
*'  All  the  gay  things  below  the  fkies. 

41  Methinks  a  mouldring  pyramid 
"  Says  all   that  the  old  fages  faid; 
"  For  me  thefe  fhatter'd  tombs  contain 
*«  More  morals  than   the  Vaican. 
"  The  dull  of  heroes  cafV  abroad, 
*c  And  kick'd,  and  trampled  in  the  road, 
«'  The  relicks  of  a  lofty  mind  "^ 

«'  That  lately   wars  and  crowns  defiu.n'd,  > 
**  Tort  for  a  jeft  from   wind  to   wind,       j 
"   Bid  me  be  humble,  and   forbear     "^ 
"  Tall  monuments  of  fame  to  rear,  > 
"  They  are  but  caftles  in  the  air.      J 
'*  The  tow'ring  heights,  and  frightful  falls, 
"  The  ruin'd  heaps,  and  funerals, 
'«   Of  fmoaking  kingdoms  and  their  kings, 
"  Tell  me  a  thouiand  mournful  things 

"   In  melancholy  filence.— - 

«'  He 

«*  That  living  could  not  bear  to  fee 

"  An  equal,   now  lies  torn  and  dead; 

*'  Here  his  pale  trunk,  and  there  his  head; 

"  Great  Pompey!  while  1  meditate, 

"  With  folemn  horror,  thy  fad  fate, 

"  Thy  carcafs,  fcatter'd  on   the  fhore 

"  Without  a  name,   inrtrufts  me  more, 

"  Than  my  whole  library  before. 

"  Lie 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.       ±3$ 

"  Lie  ftill,  my  Plutarch,  then,  and  fleep, 
"  And  my  good  Seneca  may  keep 
*'  Your  volumes  clos'd  for  ever  too,. 
'.**  I  have  no  further  ufe  for  you: 
"  For  when  I  feel  my  virtue  fail, 
"  And  my  ambitious  thoughts,  prevail* 
"  I'll  take  a  turn  among  the  tombs,, 
**  And  fee  whereto  all  glory  comes: 
"  There  the  vile  foot  of  every  clowrt 
"  Tramples  the  fons  of  honour  down. 
"  Beggars  with  awful  afb.es  fport, 
"  And  tread  the  Czefars  in  the  dirt. 


Freedom. 

1.697. 
1: 

TEMPT  me  no  more.  My  foul  can  ne'er  comport 
With  the  gay  flaveries  of  a  court : 
I've  an  averfion  to  thofe  charms, 
And  hug  dear  liberty  in  both  mine.  arms. 

Go,  vaflal-ibuls,  go,  cringe  and  wait, 
And  dance  attendance  at  Honorio's  gate, 
Then  run  in  troops  before  him  to  compofe  his  Rate; 
Move  as  he  moves;  and  when  he  loiters,  ftandj 
You're  but  the  ftiadows  of  a  man. 
Bend  when  he  fpeaks;  and  kifs  the  ground; 
Go,  catch  th'  impertinence  of  found: 
Adore  the  follies  of  the  great; 
Wait  till  he  fmiles :  but  lo,  the  idol  frown'd 
And  drove  them  to  their  fate, 
II. 
Thus  bafe-born  minds;. but  as  for  me,, 

I  can  and  will  be  free : 
Like  a  ftrong  mountain,  or  fome  ftately  tree, 
My  foul  grows  firm  upright, 

P  3     '  And; 


174       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

And  as  I  (land,  and  as  I  go, 
It  keeps  my  body  fo; 

No  I  can  never  part  with  my  creation  right, 
Let  (laves  and  afTes  ftoop  and  bow, 
I  cannot  make  this  iron  knee 
Bend  to  a  meaner  power  than  that  which  form'd 
it  free. 

III. 
Thus  my  bold  harp  profufely  play'd 
Pindarical;   then  on  a  branchy  (hade 
I  hung  my  harp  aloft,   myfelf  beneath  it  laid. 

Nature  that  liften'd  to  my  (Train, 
Refum'd  the  theme,  and  acted  it  again. 
Sudden  rofe  a  whirling  wind 
Swelling  like  Honorio  proud, 
Around  the  draws  and  feathers  crowd, 

Types  of  a  flavifh  mind; 
Upwards  the  flormy  forces  rile, 
The  dud  flies  up  and  climbs  the  (kies, 
And  as  the  temped  fell  th'  obedient  vapours  funk; 
Again  it  roars  with   bellowing  (bund, 

The  meaner  plants  they  grew  around, 
The  willow,  and  the  afp,  trembled  and  kifs'd  the 
ground; 
Hard  by  there  (rood  the  iron  trunk 
Of  an  old  oak,  and  all  the  dorm  defy'd; 
In  vain  the  winds  their  forces  try'd, 
In  vain  they  roar'd;  the  iron  oak 
Bow'd  only  to  the  heavenly  thunder's  ftroke. 


On 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        175: 

On   Mr,   LOCKE'/   Annotations    upon 
■  fever al  Parts  of  the  New  Testa- 
ment, left  behind  him  at  his  Death, 

L 

THUS  reafon  learns  by  flow  degrees, 
What  faith  reveals;  but  iti!l  complains 
Of  intellectual  pains, 

And  darknefs  from  the  too  exuberant  lights 
The  blaze  of  thofe  bright  myfteries 
Pour'd  all  at  once  on   nature's-  eyes 
Offend  and  cloud  her  feeble  fight. 

II. 
Reafon  could  fcarce  fuftain  to  fee 
Th'  almighty  one,  th'  eternal  three, 
Or  bear  the  infant  deity; 
Scarce  could  her  pride  defcend  to  own 
Her  maker  (looping  from  his  throne, 
And  dreft  in  glories  fo  unknown. 
Aranfom'd  world,  a  bleeding  God, 
And  heav'n  appeas'd  with  flowing  blood. 

Were  themes  too  painful  to  be  understood. 
III.     - 
Faith,  thou  bright  cherub,  fpeak,  and  fay, 
Did  ever  mind  of  mortal  race 
Coft  thee  more  toil,  or  larger  grace, 
To  melt  and  bend  it  to  obey. 

'Twas  hard  to  make  fo  rich  a  foul  fubmit, 
And  lay  her  fhining  honours  atthy  fovereign  feet, 

IV. 
Sifter  of  faith,  fair  charity. 
Shew  me  the  wond'rous  man  on  high, 
Tell  how  he  fees  the  God  head  three  in  one? 
The  bright  conviction  fills  his  eye} 

His 


ij6        LYRIC  POEMS,     Book II. 

His  nobleft  powers  in  deep   proftration  lye 
At  the  myfterious  throne. 
■*  Forgive  he  cries,  ye  faints  below 
*'  The  wav'ring  and  the  cold  afTent 
"   1  gave  to  themes  divinely  true  ; 
*'  Can  you  admit  the  blefled  to  repent? 
"  Eternal  darknefs  vail  the  lines 
11  Of  that  unhappy  book, 
"  Where  glimmering  reafon  with  falfeluftre  fhines, 
"  Where  the  mere  mortal  pen  miftook 
"  What  the  celeflial  meant! 

See  Mr..  Locke'.$  Annotations  on  Rom.  iii.  2J, 
and  paraphrafe  on  Rom  ix.  5,  •which  has  inclined  fome 
readers  to  doubt,  -whether  he  believed  the  deity  and  fatis- 
faBion  o/Christ.  Therefore  in  the  fourth  fanza  I 
invoke  Charity,  that  by  her  help  I  may  find  him  out  in 
heaven,  ftnce  his  notes  on  z  Cor.  v.  ult.  and jomc  other 
places,  give  me  reafon  to  believe  he  -was  no  Socinian, 
tho'  he  has  darken  d  the  glory  of  the  gofpel,  and  debafed 
chrifianity,  in  the  book  which  he  calls  the  Reafonablenefs 
of  it,  and  in  fome  of  his  other  -works. 

True   Riches. 

I  A  M  not  concern'd  to  know 
What  to-morrow  fate  will  do  : 
'Tis  enougi)   that   I  can   fay, 
I've  pofTert  myfelf  to-day  : 
Then   if  hapiy  midnight  death 
Seize  my  flefh,  and  (top  my  breath, 
Yet  to-morrow   1  (hall  be 
Heir  to  the  bed  part  of  me. 

Glittering  (tones,   and  golden  things, 
Wealth  and  honours  that  have  wings, 
Ever   fluttering  to  be  gone, 
I  could  never  call  my  own;  Richer 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.       177 

Riches  that  the  world  beftows, 
She  can  take,  and  I  can  lofe; 
But  the  treasures  that  are  mine 
Lie  afar  beyond  her  line. 
When  I  view  my  fpacious  foul, 
And  furvey  myfelf  a  whole, 
And  enjoy  myfelf  alone, 
I'm  a  kingdom   of  my  own. 

I've  a  mighty  part  within 
That  the  world  hath  never  feen^ 
Rich  as  Eden's  happy  ground, 
And  with  choicer  plenty  crown'd. 
Here  on  all  the  ihining  boughs 
Knowledge  fair  and  ufeful  grows; 
On  the  fame  young  flow'ry  tree 
All  the  feafons  you  may  fee ; 
Notions  in   the  bloom  of  light, 
Juft  difclofing  to  the  fight; 
Here  are  thoughts  of  larger  growth,. 
Rip'ning  into  foiid  truth; 
Fruits  rcfin  'd  of  noble  tafte ; 
Seraphs  feed  on  fuch  repaft. 
Here  in  a  green  and  fhady  grove, 
Streams  of  pleafure  mix  with  love: 
There  beneath  the  frniling  fkies 
Hills  of  contemplation  rife; 
Now  upon   fome  fhinir.g  top 
Angels  light,  and  call  me  up; 
I  rejoice  to  raife  my  feet, 
Both  rejoice  when  there  we  meet. 

There  are  endlefs  beauties  more 
Earth  hath  no  refemblance  for ; 
Nothing  like  them  round  the  pole, 
Nothing  can  defcribe  the  foul ; 
'Tis  a  region  half  unknown. 
That  has  treafures  of  its  own 

More 


ijS     LYRIC  POEMS,    Book  II. 

More  remote  from  publick  view 
Than  the  bowels  of  Peru ; 
Broader  'tis,  and  brighter  far, 
Than  the  golden  Indies  are; 
Ships  that  trace  the  watry  ftage, 
Cannot  coaft  it  in  an  age; 
Harts,  or  horfes,  ftrong  and  fleet. 
Had  they  wings  to  help  their  feet, 
Could  not  run  it  half  way  o'er 
In  ten  thoufand  days  or  more. 
"Yet  the  filly  wandring  mind, 
l.oth  to  be  too  much  confin'd, 
Roves  and  takes  her  daily  tours, 
Coafting  round  the  narrow  fhores, 
Narrow  fhores  of  flefti  and  fenfe, 
Picking  (hells  and  pebbles  thence: 
Or  (he  fits  at  fancy's  door, 
Calling  (hapes  and  (hadows  to  her, 
Foreign  vifits  (till  receiving, 
And  t'  herfelf  a  ftranger  living. 
Never,  never  would  (he  buy 
Indian  duft,  or  Tyrian  dye, 
Never  tread  abroad  for  more, 
If  (he  faw  her  native  (lore, 
If  her  inward  worth  were  known, 
She  might  ever  live  alone.* 


The  Adventurous   Mufe. 


URANIA  takes  her  morning  flight 
With  an  inimitable  wing: 
Thro'  riling  deluges  of  dawning  light 

She  cleaves  her  wondrous  way, 
She  tunes  immortal  anthems  to  the  growing  day; 

Nor 


Satred  to  Virtue,  Bcc*       179 

Nor  *  Rapin  gives  her  rules  to  fly,  nor  f  Purcell 
notes  to  fing. 

n. 

She  iior  enquires,  nor  knows,  nor  fears 
Where  lie  the    pointed  rocks,  or  where    the    in- 

gulphing  fand, 
Climbing  the  liquid  mountains  of  the  fldes 
She  meets  defcending  angels  as  me  flies, 
Nor  afks  them  where  their  country  lies, 

Or  where  the  fea  marks  (land, 
Touch'd  with  an  empyreal  ray, 
She  fprings,  unerring,  upward  to  eternal  day, 

Spreads  her  white  fails  aloft,  and  fleers, 
With  bold  and  fafe  attempt,  to  the  celeftial  land, 

III. 
Whilft  little  fluffs  along  the  mortal  mores 

With  humble  toil  in  order  creep, 
Coafting  in  fight  of  one  another's  oars, 
Nor  venture  thro'  the  boundlefs  deep. 
Such  low  petending  fouls  are  they 
Who  dwell  inclos'd  in  folid  orbs  of  ikull; 

Plodding  along  their  fober  way, 
The  fnail  o'ertakes  them  in  their  wild«ft  play, 
While  the  poor  labourers  fweat  to  be  correctly  dull, 

IV. 
Give  me  the  chariot  whofe  diviner  wheels 

Mark  their  own  rout,  and  unconfin'd 
Bound  o'er  the  everlafting  hills, 
And  lofe  the  clouds    below,    and  leave  the  flars 
behind. 
Give  me  the  mufe  whofe  generous  force, 

Impatient  of  the  reins, 
Purfues  an  unattempted  courfe, 

Breaks 


A  French  CrHick.    f  An  Englifh  mafter  ofmufich 


.i8o       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  IL 

Breaks  all  the  criticks  iron  chains, 
And  bears  to  paradife  the  raptur'd  mind. 
V. 

There  Milton  dwells:  the  mortal  fung 

Themes  not  prefum'd  by  mortal  tongue; 

New  terrors,  or  new  glories,  (hine 
In   ev'ry  page,  and  flying  fcenes  divine 
Surprize  the  wond'ring  fenfe,  and  draw  our  fouls 
along. 

Behold  his  mufe  fent  out  t'  explore 
The  unapparent  deep  where  waves  of  chaos  roar, 

And  realms  of  night  unknown  before. 
She  trae'd  a  glorious  path  unknown, 
Thro'  fields  of    heavenly  war,  and    feraphs  over- 
thrown, 

Where  his  advent'rous  genius' led: 
Sovereign   fhe  fram'd  a  model  of  her  own, 

Nor  thank'd  the  living  nor  the  dead. 
The  noble  hater  of  deg  nerate  rhime 
Shook  off  the  chains  and  built  his  verfe  fublime, 
A  monumenr.  too  high  tor  coupled  founds  to  climb. 

He  mourn'd  the  garden  loft  below; 
(Earth  is  the  fcene  for  tuneful  woe) 

Now  blifs  beats  high  in  all  his  veins, 

Now  the  loft  Eden   he  regains, 
Keeps  his  own  air,  and  triumphs  in  vnrival'd  drains. 

VI. 
Tm mortal  bard!  thus  thy  own  Raphael  fings. 

And  knows  no  rule*  but  native  fire; 
All  heav'n  fits  filent,  while  to  his  fo/ereign  firings 

He  talks  unutterable  things; 
With  graces  infinite  his  untaught  fingers  rove 
Acrofs  the  golden   lyve: 

From  every  note  devotion  fprings, 

Rapture,  and  harmony  and  love, 
O'erfpread  the  lift'ning  choir. 

To 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c«       iBi 

To  Mr.     NICHOLAS     CLARK. 

The  Complaint. 

I. 

» HP  WAS  in  a  vale  where  ofiers  grow 
X      By  murmVing  ftreams  we  told  ouf  woe, 
And  mingled  all  our  cares; 
Friendfhip  fat  pleas'd  in  both  our  eyes, 
In  both  the  weeping  dews  arife, 
And  drop  alternate  tears. 
II. 
The  vigorous  monarch  of  the  day 
Now  mounting  half  his  morning  way 

Shone  with  a  fainter  bright; 
Still  fiekning,  and  decaying  ftill, 
-Dimly  he  wander'd  up  the  hill. 
With  his  expiring  light. 
III. 
In  dark  eclipfe  his  chariot  roll'd, 
The  queen  of  night  obfcur'd  his  gold 

Behind  her  fable  wheels  : 
Nature  grew  fad  to  lofe  the  day, 
The  flow'ry  vales  in  mourning  lay, 
In  mourning  flood  the  hills. 
IV. 
Such  are  our  forrows,  CLARK,  I  cry'd, 
Clouds  of  the  brain  grow  black  and  hide 

Our  dark'ned  fouls  behind ; 
In  the  young  morning  of  our  years 
Diftempering  fogs  have  climb'd  the  fpheres, 
And  choke  the  lab'ring  mind. 
V. 
Lo,  the  gay  planet  rears  his  head, 
And  overlooks  the  lofty  fhade, 

<L    f  New- 


'i82       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

New-bright'ning  all  the  fkies  : 
But  fay,  dear  partner  of  my  moan, 
When  will  our  long  eclipfe  be  gone, 

Or  when  our  funs  arif?  ? 
VI. 
In  vain  are  potent  herbs  apply'd, 
Harmonious  founds  in  vain  have  try'd 

To  make  the  darknefs  fly: 
But  drugs  would  raife  the  dead  as  foon, 
Or  clatt'ring  brafs  relieve  the  moon, 

When  fainting  in  the  fky. 
VII. 
Some  friendly  fpirit  from  above,- 
Born  of  the  light,  and  nurd:  with  love, 

Affift  our  feebler  fires; 
Force  thefe  invading  glooms  away; 
Souls  fhould  be  feen  quke  tliro'  their  clay, 

Bright  as  your  heav'nly  choirs. 
VIII. 
But  if  the  fogs  mufl  damp  the  flame, 
Gently,  kind  death,  diflblve  our  frame, 

Releafe  the  prifoner-mind; 
Our  fouls  ihail  mount,  at  thy  difcharge, 
To  their  bright  fource,  and  fhine  at  large 

Nor  clouded,  nor  confin'd. 


The  Jjlittions  of  a  Friend* 

I,  1704. 

NOW  let  my  cares  all  bury'd  lie, 
My  griefs  for  ever  dumb  : 
Your  forrows  fwell  my  heart  io  high, 
They  leave  my  own  no  room. 
IT. 
Sicknefs  and  pains  are  quite  forgot, 

The  fpleen  itfeif  is  gone;  Plung'd 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.         183 

Plung'd  in  your  woes  I  feel  them  not, 

Or  feel  them  all  in  one. 
III. 
Infinite  grief  puts  fenCe  to  flight, 

Aud  all  the  foul  invades : 
So  the  broad  gloom  of  fpreading  night 

Devours  the  evening  fhades. 
IV. 
Thus  am  I  born  to  be  unbleft? 

This  fympathy  of  woe 
Drives  my  own  tyrants  from  my  breaft 

'T  admit  a  foreign  foe. 
V. 
Sorrows  in  long  fuccefllon  reign; 

Their  iron  rod   I  feel  : 
Friendfhip  has  only  chang'd  the  chaini: 

But  I'm   the  pris'ner  ft  ill. 
VI. 
Why  was  this  life  for  mifery  made  ? 

Or  why  drawn  out  fo  long  ? 
Is  there  no  room  amongft  the  dead  ? 

Or  is  a  wretch  too  young? 
VII, 
Move  faiter  on  great  nature's  wheel, 

Be  kind  ye  rolling  powers, 
Hurl  my  days  headlong  down  the  hill 

With  undiftinguifh'd  hours. 
VIII. 
Be  dufky,  all  my  riling  funs, 

Nor  fmile  upon  a  Have: 
Darknefs,  and  death,  make  hafce  at  once 

To  hide  me  in  the  grave. 


P  z  The 


1 84     LYRIC  POEMS,    Book II. 

The  Rev  erf e :  Or,    the   Comforts   of  a 

Friend* 

1. 

THUS  nature  tun'd  her  mournful  tongue, 
Till  grace  lift  up  her  head, 
Revers'd  the  ibrrow  and  the  long, 
And  fmiiing,  thus  (he  faid: 
II. 
Were  kindred  fpirits  born  for  cares? 
-~    Mu ft  every  grief  be  mine? 
Is  there  a  iympathy  in  teats, 
Yet  joys  refufe  to  join  ? 
III. 
Forbid  it,  heav'n,  and  raife  my  love, 

And  make  our  joys  the  fame : 
So  b'ifs  and  friendship  join'd  above 
Mix  an  immortal  flame. 
IV. 
Sorrows  are  loft  in  vaft  delight 

That  brightens  all  the  foul, 
As  deluges  of  dawning  light 
O'erwhelm  the  du£ky  pole. 
V. 
Pleafures  in  long  fucceffion  reign, 

And  all  my  powers  employ : 
Friendship  but  fhifts  the  pleafing  fcene, 
And  frelh  repeats  the  joy. 
VI. 
Life  has  a  foft  and  filver  thread, 

Nor  is  it  drawn  too  long; 
fffc  when  my  vafter  hopes  perfuade, 
I'm  willing  to  be  gone. 

VII. 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.      i8"£ 
vii. 

Eaft  as  ye  pleafe,  roll  down  the  hill, 

And  haft   away,  my  years; 
Or  I  can  wait  my  father's  will, 

And  dwell  beneath  the  fpheres. 
VIII. 
Rife,  glorious,  every  future  fun, 

Gild  ali  my  following  days, 
But  make  the  laft  dear  moment  known 

By  well  diftinguihYd  rays. 

To  the-  Right  Honourable  JOHN  Lord  CUTS*- 
At  the  Siege  of  Namur. 

The  Hardy  Soldier. 
t» 

"  f*%  Why  *s  man  f°  thoughtlefs  grown? 

Kj  "  Why  guilty  fouls  in  hafte  to  die? 
"  Vent'ring  the  leap  to  the  worlds  unknown, 
"  Heedlefs  to  arms  and  blood  they  fly, 

II. 
"  Are  lives  but  worth  a  foldier's  pay  ? 
"  Why  will  ye  join  fuch  wide  extreams, 
"  And  ftake  immortal  fouls,  in  play 
"  At  defperate  chance,  and  bloody  games? 

III. 
"  Valour's  a  nobler  turn  of  thought, 
"  Whofe  pardon 'd  guilt  forbids  her  fears: 
"  Calmly  fhe  meets  the  deadly  fhot, 
"  Secure  of  life  above  the  ftars. 

IV. 
"  But  frenzy  dares  eternal  fate, 
"  And  fpnrr'd  with  honour's  airy  dreams, 
'*  Flies  to  attack  th'  infernal  gate, 
*  And  force  a  pafiage  to  the  flames* 

Pa  % 


iB6     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 
v. 

Thus  hov'ring  o'er  NAMURIA's  plains, 
Sung  heav'nly  love  in  Gabriel's  form  : 
Young  THRASQ  left  the  moving  ftrains, 
And  vow'd  to  pray  before  the  ftorm. 

VI. 
Anon  the  thundering  trumpet  calls;. 
Voivs  are  but  -windy  the  hero  cries; 
Then  fwears  by  heav'n,  and  fcales  the  walls, 
Drops  in  the  ditch,  deipairs  and  dies. 

Burning  fever al  Poems  of  Ovid,   Mat" 
tial,   Oldham,   Dry  den,    <bc. 

I.  1703. 

I  Judge  the  mufe  of  lewd  defire; 
Her  Tons  to  darknefs,  and  her  works  to  fire. 
In  vain  the  flatteries  of  their  wit 
Now  with  a  melting  (train,  now  with  an  heavenly 
flight, 
Would  tempt  my  virtue  to  approve 
Thofe  gandy  tinders  of  a  lawkfs  love. 

So  harlots  drefs  :  they  can  appear 
Sweet,  modeft,  cool,  divinely  fair, 
To  charm  a  Cato's  eye;  but  all  within, 
Stench,  impudence  and  fire,  and  ugly  raging  firu 
II. 
Die,  Flora,  die  in  endlefs  (hame, 
Thou  proftitute  of  blacked  fame, 

Stript  of  thy  falfe  array. 
Ovid,  and  all  ye  wilder  pens 
Of  modern  luft,  who  gild  our  fcenes, 
Poifon  the  Brtifh  ftage,  and  paint  damnation  gay, 

Attend  your  miftrefs  to  the  dead; 
When  Flora  dies,  her  imps  ftiould  wait  upon  her 
fhade.  UU 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.      187 
in. 

*  Strephon,  of  noble  blood  and  mind, 
(For  ever  fhine  his  name!) 

As  death  approach'd,  his  foul  refin'd, 
And  gave  his  loofer  fonnets  to  the  flame. 

"  Burn,  burn,  he  cry'd  with  facred  rage, 

"  Hell  is  the  due  of  every  page, 
**  Hell  be  the  fate.     (But  6  indulgent  heaven! 
"  So  vile  the  mufe,  and  yet  the  man  forgiv'n!) 
'*  Burn  on  my  fongs:  for  not  the  filver  Thames, 

"  Nor  Tyber  with  his  yellow  ftreams, 
*'  In  endlefs  currents  rolling  to  the  main, 
"  Can  e'er  dilute  the  poifon,  or  wafh  out  the  ftaui., 

So  Mofes  by  divine  command, 

Forbid  the  leprous  houfe  to  ftand 
When  deep  the  fatal  fpot  was  grown. 
Break  down  the  timber,  and  dig  up  the  Jlone. 


To  Mrs.  B.     BE  ND  IS  H. 

Again  ft  Tears, 


1699, 


1, 

MADAM,  perfuade  me  tears  are  good 
To  wafh  our  mortal  cares  away; 
Thefe  eyes  (hall  weep  a  fudden  flood, 
And  ftream  into  a  briny  fea. 

II. 
Or  if  thefe  orbs  are  hard  and  dry, 
(Thefe  orbs  that  never  ufe  to  rain) 
Some,  ftar  difeft  me  where  to  buy- 
One  fovereign  drop  for  all  my  pain. 

III. 

*  Earl  of  Rocfofter, 


i88       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  IT. 
in. 

Were  both  the  golden   Indies  mine, 
I'd  give. both   Indies  for  a  tear: 
I'd  barter  all  but  what's  divine: 
Nor  mail  I  think,  the  bargain  dear. 

IV. 
But  tears,  alas!  are  trifling  things, 
They  rather  feed  than  heal  our  woe; 
From  trickling  eyes  new  forrow  fprings, 
As  weeds  in  rainy  feafons  grow. 

V. 
Thus  weeping  urges  weeping  on; 
In  vain  our  miferies  hope  relief, 
For  one  drop  calls  another  down, 
Till  we  are  drown'd  in  feas  of  grief. 

VI. 
Then  let  thefe  ufelefs  dreams  be  ftaid, 
Wear  native  courage  on  your  face  ; 
Thefe  vulgar  things  were  never  made 
For  fouls  of  a  fuperior  race. 

VII. 
If  'tis  a  rugged  path  you  go, 
And  thoufand  foes  your  fteps  furround, 
Tread  the  thorns  down,  charge  th  o'  the  foe; 
The  hardefl  fight  is  higheft  crown'd. 

Few  Happy  Matches. 

Aug.  1 701. 
I. 

SA  Y,  mighty  love,  and  teach  my  fong, 
To  whom  thy  fweeteft  joys  belong, 
And  who  the  happy  pairs 
Whofe  yielding  hearts,  and  joining  hands, 
Find  bltffings  twifted  with  their  bands, 
To  foften  all  their  cares. 

Not 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.      189 
11. 

Not  the  wild  herd  of  nymphs  and  fwains, 
That  thoughtlefs  fly  into  the  chains, 

As  cuftom  leads  the  way  : 
If  there  be  blifs  without  defigu, 
Ivies  and  oaks  may  grow  and  twine, 

And  be  as  bleft  as  they. 
III. 
Not  fordid  fouls  of  earthly  mould 
Who  drawn  by  kindred  charms  of  gold, 

To  dull  embraces  move  : 
So  two  rich  mountains  of  Peru 
May  rulh  to  wealthy  marriage  too, 

And  make  a  world  of  love. 
IV. 
Not  the  mad  tribe  that  hell  infpires 
With  wanton  flame;  thofe  raging  fires 

The  purer  blifs  deftroy : 

On  ./Etna's  top  let  furies  wed, 
And  fheets  of  lightning  drefs  the  bed 

T'  improve  the  burning  joy. 
V. 
Nor  the  dull  pairs  whofe  marble  forms 
None  of  the  melting  pailions  warms, 

Can  mingle  hearts  and  hands: 
togs  of  green  wood  that  quench  the  coalSt, 
Are  marry'd  juft  like  ftoic  fouls, 

With  ofiers  for  their  bands. 
VI. 
Not  minds  of  melancholy  ftrain, 
Still  filent  or  that  ftill  complain, 

Can  the  dear  bondage  blefs; 
As  well  may  heavenly  conforts  fpring 
From  two  old  lutes  with  ne'er  a  firing, 

Or  none  befjdes  the  bafs, 

VII. 


ipo       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  IL 

VII. 

Nor  can  the  foft  enchantments  hold 
Two  jarring  fou!s  of  angry  mould, 

The  rugged  and  the  keen : 
Sampfon's  young  foxes  might  as  well 
In  bonds  of  chearfull  wedlock  dwell, 

With  firebrands  ty'd  between. 
VIII. 
Nor  let  the  cruel  fetters  bind 
A  gentle  to  a  favage  mind; 

For  love  abhors  the  fight; 
Loofe  the  fierce  tyger  from  the  deer, 
For  native  rage,    and  native  fear 

Rife  and  forbid  delight. 
IX. 
Two  kindeft  fouls  alone  rnuft  meet, 
'Tis  Friendship  makes  the  bondage  fweet, 

And  feeds  their  mutual  loves; 
Bright  Venus  on  her  rolling  throne 
!s  drawn   by  gentleft  birds  alone, 

And  Cupids  yoke  the  doves. 

To    DAVID     POLHILL,    Efq; 

An   Epijlle. 

I.  December',  170a. 

LET  ufelefs  fouls  to  woods  retreat;  « 
POLHILL  fhould  leave  a  country  feat 
When  virtue  bids  him  dare  be  great. 

II. 
Nor  Kent,*  nor  SufTex,*  fhould  have  charms, 
While  liberty,  with   loud  alarms, 
Calls  you  to  counfels  and  to  arms. 

III. 

*  His  country-feat  and  dwelling. 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        191 
in. 

Lewis,  by  fawning  flaves  ador'd, 
Bids  you  receive  a  f  bafe-born  lord; 
Awake  your  cares!  awake  your  fword! 

IV. 
Factions  amongft  the  §  Britons  rife, 
And  warring  tongues,  and  wild  furmife, 
And  burning  zeal  without  her  eyes. 

V. 
A  vote  decides  the  blind  debate; 
Refolv'd,  'Tis  of  diviner  weight. 
To  fave  the  fteeple,  than  the  ft  ate. 

VI. 
The  \  bold  machine  is  form'd  and  join5*! 
To  ftretch  the  confcience,  and  to  bind 
The  native  freedom  of  the  mind. 

VIL 
ITour  grandfire  ihades  with  jealous  eye. 
Frown  down  to  fee  their  offspring  lie 
Carelefs,  and  let  their  country  die. 

VIII. 
If  %  Trivia  fear  to  let  you  ftand 
Againft  the  Gaul  with  fpear  in  hand, 
At  lead  Ji  petition  for  the  land. 

The 


f  The  pretender,  proclaimed  king  in  France. 

§   The  parliament. 

\  The  bill  againft  occa Clonal  conformity,  170a. 

%  Mrs.  Poihill  of  the  family  of  the  Lord  Trevor. 

\\  Mr.  Poihill  was  one  ofthofefive  zealous  gentlemen 
who  prefented  the  famous  Kentijh  petition  to  the  parlia- 
vnent,  in  the  reign  of  king  William,  to  haft  en  their  f up- 
plies,  in  order  tofupport  the  king  in  his  war  with  France. 


!92       LYRIC    POEMS,      Book  II. 

The  celebrated  Vitlory  of  the  Poles  over 
Of  many  the  Turkifh  Emperor,  in  the 
Dacian  Battle, 

Tranflated  from  Cafimire,   B.    IV.  Od.  4.  with 

large  Additions. 

GADOR  the  old,  the  wealthy  and  the  ftrong, 
Chearful  in  years,  (nor  of  the  heroic  mufe 
Unknowing,  nor  unknown)  held  fair  pofTeflions 
Where  flows  the  fruitful  Danube  :  feventy  fprings 
Smil'd  on  his  feed,  and  feventy  harveft  moons 
FilPd  his  wide  granaries  with  autumnal  joy; 
Still  he  refum'd  the  toil :  and  fame  reports, 
While  he  broke  up  new  ground,  and  tir'd  his  plough 
In  grafly  furrows,  the  torn  earth  difclos'd 
Helmets,  and  fwords  (bright  furniture  of  war 
Sleeping  in  ruft)  and  heaps  of  mighty  bones. 
The  fun  defcending  to  the  weftern  deep 
Bid  him  lie  down  and  reft;  he  loos'd  the  yoke, 
Yet  held  his  wearied  oxen  from  their  food 
With  charming  numbers,  and  uncommon  fong. 

Go,  fellow-labourers,  you  may  rove  fecure, 
Or  feed  befide  me;  tafte  the  greens  and  boughs 
That  you  have  long  forgot;  crop  the  fweet  herb, 
And  graze  in  fafety,  while  the  victor  pole 
Leans  on  his  fpcar,  and  breathes;  yet  ftill  his  eye 
Jealous  and  fierce.     How  large,  old  foldier,  fay, 
How  fair  a  harveft  of  the  flaughrer'd  Turks 
Strew'd  the  Moldavian  fields?  what  mighty  piles 
Of  vaft  deftiudtion,  and  of  Thracian  dead 
Fill  and  amaze  my  eyes!   broad  bucklers  lie 
(A  vain  Referee,  fpread  o'er  the  pathlcfs  hills, 
And  coats  of  fcaly  fteel,  and  hard  habergeon, 

Deep 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c.        103 

Deep  bruis'd  and  empty  of  Mahometan  limbs. 
This  the  fierce  Saracen  wore,   (for  when  a  boy, 
I  was  their  captive,  and  remind  their  drefs:) 
Here  the  Polonians,  dreadful  march'd  along 
In  auguft  gprt,  and  regular  array, 
Led  on  toSronqueft;  here  the  Turkifh  chief 
Prefumptuous  trod,  and  in  rude  order  rang'd 
His  long  battalions,  while  his  populous  towns 
Pour'd  out  frelh  troops  perpetual,  drefs'd  in  arms, 
Horrent  in  mail,  and  gay  in  fpangled  pride. 

O  the  dire  image  of  the  bloody  fight 
Thefe  eyes  have  feen,  when  the  capacious  plain 
Was  throng'd  with  Dacian    fpears;   when  polifh'd 

helms 
And  convex  gold  blaz'd  thick  againft  the  fun 
Reftoring  all  his  beams!   but  frowning  war 
All  gloomy,  like  a  gather'd  temped,  flood 
Wavering  and  doubtful  where  to  bend  its  fall. 
The  ftorm  of  miffive  (leal  delay'd  a  while 
My  wife  command  :   fledg'd  arrows  on  the  nerve; 
And  Scymiter  and  Sabre  bore  the  (heath 
Reluctant:  till  the  hollow  brazen  clouds 
Had  bellow'd  from  each  quarter  of  the  field 
Xoud  thunder,  and  difgorg'd  their  fulph'rous  fire. 
Then  banners  wav'd,andarms  were  mix'd  with  arms„ 
Then  javelins  anftver'd  javelins  as  they  fled, 
For  both  fled  hiffing  death  :   with  adverfe  edge 
The  crooked  faulchions  met ;  and  hideous  noife 
From  chaining  ihields,  thro'  the  long  ranks  of  war, 
Clang'd  horrible.     A  thcufand  iron  dorms 
Roar  diverfe:  and  in  harih  confufion  drown 
The  trumpet's  (liver  found.     O  rude  effort 
Of  harmony !  not  all  the  frozen  (lores, 
Of  the  cold  north  when  pour'd  in  rattling  hail 
Lafh  with  fuch  madnefs  the  Norwegian  plains, 
Or  £o  torment  the  air.     Scarce  founds  fo  far 

R  The 


194       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  I] 

The  direful  fragor,  when  fome  fouthern  blaft 
1  ears  from  the  Alps  a  ridge  of  knotty  oaks 
JUeep  fang  d,  and  antient  tenants  of  the  rock  : 
rtru"?  •    e  fra£mcnt  many  a  rood  in  length 
With  hideous  cralh  rolls  down  the  rugged  cliff 
Keiiftlefs  plunging  in  thefubjecl:  lake 
Como'  or  Lug  aim  ;  th'  afflicted  waters  roar, 
-And  various  thunder  all  the  valley  fills; 
Such  was  the  noife  of  war  :  the  troubled'air 
Complains  aloud,  and  propagates  the  din 
To  neighbouring  regions  :  rocks  and   lofty  hills 
Beat  the  impetuous  echoes  round  the  Iky. 

Uproar,  revenge,  and  rage,  and  hate  appear 
In  all  their  murderous  forms  ;  and  flame  and  bloo  d. 
And  fweat  and  durt  array  the  broad  campaign 
In  horror:  hafty  feet  and  fparkling  eyes, 
And  all  the  favage  paffions  of  the  foul 
Engage  in  the  warm  bufinefs  of  the  day. 
Here  mingling  bands,  but  with  no  friendly  gripe, 
Join  in  the  fight ;  and  breafts  in  clofe  embrace, 
But  mortal,  as  the  iron  arms  of  death. 
Here  words  auftere  of  perillous  command, 
And  valour  fwift  t'  obey ;   bold  fates  of  arms 
Dreadful  to  fee,  and  glorious  to  relate 
Shine  thro'  the  field  with  more  furprizingbrightnefs 
Than  glittering   helms  or  fpears.     What  loud  ap- 

plaufe, 
(Belt  meed  of  warlike  toil)  what  manly  fhouts, 
And  yells  unmanly  thro'  the  battle  ring! 
And  fudden  wrath  dies  into  endlefs  fame. 

Long  did  the  fate  of  war  hang  dubious.  Here 
Stood  the  more  num'rous  Turk,  the  valiant  Pole 
Fought  here;  more  dreadful,  tho'  with  lefler  wings. 

But  what  the  Dahees  or  the  coward  foul 
Of  a  Cydonian,  what  the  fearful  crouds 
Ol  bafe  Cilicians  'leaping  from  the  flaughter, 

Or 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        195 

Or  Parthian  beads,  with  all  their  racing  riders, 

What  could  they  mean  againfl  th'  intrepid  breaft 

Of  the  purfuing  foe?  th'  impetuous  Poles 

Rufh  here,  and  here  the  Litbunian  horfe 

Drive  down  upon  them  like  a  double  bolt 

Of  kindled  thunder  raging  thro'  the  iky 

On  founding  wheels;  or  as  fome  mighty  flood 

Rolls  his  two  torrents  down  a  dreadful  deep 

Precipitant  and  bears  along  tbe  ftream 

Rocks,  woods  and  trees,  with  all  the  grazing  herd, 

And  tumbles  lofty  forefts  headlong  to  the  plain. 

The  bold  Boruffian  fmoaking  from  afar 
Moves  like  a  temped  in  a  dufky  cloud, 
And  imitates  the  artiilery  of  heaven, 
The  lightning  and  the  roar.     Amazing  fcene! 
What  fhowers  of  mortal  hail,  what  flaky  fires 
Burft  from  the  darknefs!   while  the  cohorts  firm 
Met  the  like  thunder,  and  an  equal  florm, 
From  hoftile  troops,  but  with  a  braver  mind. 
Undaunted  bofoms  tempt  the  edge  of  war, 
And  rufh  on  the  (harp  point;  while  baleful  mifchiefs, 
Deaths,  and  bright  dangers  flew  acrofs  the  field 
Thick  and  continual,  and  a  thoufand  fouls 
Fled  murmuring  thro'  their  wounds.     I  flood  aloof, 
For  'twas  unfafe  to  come  within  the  wind 
Of  Ruffian  banners,  when  with  whizzing  found, 
Eager  of  glory,  and  profufe  of  life, 
They  bore  down  fearlefs  on  the  charging  foes, 
And   drove    them   backward.     Then    the  Turkifh 

moons 
Wander'd  in  difarray.     A  dark  eclipfe 
Hung  on    the  filver  crefcent,  boding  night, 
Long  night,  to  all  her  fons  :   at  length  difrob'd 
The  (tandards  fell;   the  barbarous  enfigns  torn 
Fled  with  the  wind,  the  fport  of  angry  heav'n  : 

R  s  And 


io<5        LYRIC  POEMS,     Book  II. 

And  a  large  cloud  of  infantry  and  horfe 
Scattering  in  wild  diforder,  fpread  the  plain. 

Not  noife,  nor  number,  nor  the  brawny  limb, 
Nor  high  built  fize  prevails:  'tis  courage  fights, 
'Tis  courage  conquers.     So  whole  forrefts  fall 
(  \  fpacious  ruin)  by  onefingleax, 
And  ft^el  well  iharpned  :  Jo  a  generous  pair 
Of  young-wing'd  eaglets  fright  a  thoufand  doves. 
Vast  was  the  (laughter,   and  the  flow'ry  green 
Drank  deep  of  flowing  crimfon.    Veteran  Bands 
Here  made  their  laft  campaign.  Here  haughty  chiefs 
Stretch'd  on  the  bed  of  purple  honour  lie 
Supine,   nor  dream  of  battle's  hard  event, 
Opprefs'd  with  iron  (lumbers,  and  long  night, 
Their  gh..(ls  indignant  to  the  nether  world, 
Fled,   but  attended  well:   for  at  their  fide 
Some  faithful  Janizaries  ftrew'd  the  field, 
Fall'n  in  jufr  ranks  or  wedges,   lunes  or  fquares, 
Firm  as  they  (lood;   to  the  Waifovian  troops 
A  nobler  toil,  and  triumph  worth  their  fight. 
JBut  the  broad  fabre  and  keen  poll-ax  flew 
With  lpeedy  terror  thio'  the  feebler  herd, 
And  made  rude  havock  and  irregular  fpoil 
Amongft  the  vulgar  bands  that  oun'd  the  name 
Of  Mahomet.     The  wild  Arabians  fled 
In  fwift  affright  a  thoufand  different  ways 
Thro'  brakes  and  thorns,  and  climb'd  the  craggy 

mountains 
Bellowing;   yet  hafty  fate  o'crtook  the  cry, 
And  Polifh  hunters  clave  the  timorous  deer. 

Thus  the  dire  profpecl  diftant  fill'd  my  foul 
With  awe*,   till  the  lad  relicks  of  the  war 
The  thin  Edonians,   flying  had  difclos'd 
The  ghafily  plain  :   I  took  a  nearer  view, 
Unfeemly  to  the  fight,   nor  to  the  fmell 
Grateful.     What  loads  of  mangled  flefh  and  limbs 

(A  difmal 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        197 

(A  difmal  carnage! )  bath'd  in  reeking  gore 
Lay  wekMng  on  the  ground;  while  flitting  life 
Convuls'd  the-nerves  (till  fhivering,  nor  had  loft 
All  tafte  of  painT^ere  an  old  Thracian  lies 
Deform'd  with  years^  and  fears,   and  groans  aloud 
Torn  with  frelh  wounds;  but  inward  vitals  firm 
Forbid  the  foul's  remove,  and  chain  it  down 
By  the  hard  laws  of  nature,  to  fuftain 
Long  torment;  his  wild  eye-balls  roll:  his  teeth 
Gnafhing  with  anguifh,  chide  his  lingering  fate, 
Emblazon'd  armour  fpoke  his  high  command 
Amongft  the  neighbouring  dead;  they  round  their 

lord 
Lay  proftrate;  fome  in  flight  ignobly  flain, 
Some  to  the  fkies  their  faces  upwards  turn'd 
Still  brave,  and  proud  to  die  fo  near  their  prince. 

I  mov'd  not  far,  and  lo,  at  manly  length 
Two  beauteous  youths  of  richeft  Ott'man  blood 
Extended  on  the  field;  in  friendfhip  join'd, 
Nor  fate  divides  them  :  hardy  warriors  both; 
Both  faithful;  drown'd  in  fhowr's  of  darts  they  fell^ 
Each  with  his  fhield  fpread  o'er  his  lover's  heart, 
In  vain  :  for  on  thofe  orbs  of  friendly  brafs 
Stood  groves  of  javelins;  fome  alas,  too  deep 
Were  planted  there,  and  thro'  their  lovely  bofoms 
Made  painful  avenues  for  cruel  death. 

0  my  dear  native  land,  forgive  the  tear 

1  dropt  on  their  wan  cheeks,  when  ftrong  compaflion 
Forc'd  from  my  melting  eyes  the  briny  dew, 

And  paid  a  facrifice  to  hoftile  virtue. 

Dacia,  forgive  the  figh  that  wilh'd  the  fouls 

Of  thofe  fair  infidels  fome  humble  place 

Amongft  the  bleft.     "  Sleep,  fleep,  ye  haplefs  parr? 

"  Gently,  I  cry'd,  worthy  of  better  fate, 

"  And  better  faith."     Hard  by  the  general  lay 

Of  Saracen  defcent,  a  grizly  form. 

R  3  Breathleisy 


19S     LYRIC   POEMS,     Book  II. 

Breathlefs,  yet  pride  fat  pale  upon  his  front 
In  difappointment,   with  a  furly  brew 
Louring  in  death,   and  vext;   his  rigid  jaws 
Foaming  with  blood  bite  hard  the  Polifh  ipear. 
In  that  dead  vifage  my  remembrance  reads 
Ruin  Caracas:   in  vain  the  boafting  flave 
Promis'3  and  footh'd  the  Sultan  threatning  fierce 
With  royal  luppers  and  triumphant  fare 
Spread  wide  beneath  Warfovian  filk  and  gold; 
See  on  the  naked  ground  all  cold  he  lies 
Beneath  the  dmp  wide  cov'iing  of  the  air 
forgetful  of  his  word.     Plow  heaven  confounds 
Infuhing  hopes!   with  what  an  awful  fmile 
Laughs  at  the  proud,  that  loofen  all  the  reins 
To  their  unbounded  wifiies,  and  leads  on 
Their  blind  ambition  to  a  fhamefulend! 

But  whither  am  I  born  ?  this  thought  of  arms 
Fires  me  in  vain  to  fing  to  fenfelefs  bulls 
What  generous  horfe  fbonld  hear.   Break  off,  my  fong, 
My  barbarous  mufe  be  flill  :   immortal  deeds 
Mult  not  be  thus  prophan'd  in  ruftic  verfe  : 
The  martial  trumpet,  and  the  following  age, 
And  growing  fame,   fhall  loud  rehear fe  the  fight 
In  founds  of  glory.  Lo,  the  evening  firar 
Shines  o'er  the  weftern  hill;  my  oxen,  come, 
The  well  known  ftar  invites  the  labourer  home. 


To   Mr.   HENRY  BE  NDYSH. 

Dear  Sir,  Aug.  24,  I7°5. 

'I  'HE  following  fong  was  yours  when  firf  compos' d : 
The  mufe  then  defcrWd  the  general  fate  of  mankind, 
that  is,  to  be  ill  match* d  ;  and  now  foe  rejoices  that  you 
have  efcaped  the  common  mifchief,  and  that  your  foul  has 
found  its  own  mate.     Let  this  ode  then  congratulate  you 

both 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.       199 

loth.    Grow  mutually  In  more  compleat  likenefs  and  love  : 
Perfcvere  and  be  happy. 

I  perjuade  my/elf  you  v/tll  accept  from  the  prefs  -what 
the  pen  more  privately  infcriV  d  to  you  long  ago  ;  and  Tm 
in  no  pain  left  you  fiould  take  offent  e  at  the  fabulous  drefs 
of  this  poem:  nor  -would -weaker  minds  be  fcandaliz  d  at 
it,  ifihey  -would give  themfelves  leave  to  refle8  how  many 
divine  truths  are  fpoken  by  the  holy  writers  in  vifions  and 
images,  parables  and  dreams,  nor  are  my  wifer  friends 
afoamed  to  defend  lit,  fince  the  narrative  is  grave,  and 
the  moral  Jo  juft-and  obvious. 

The  Indian  Philcfopher. 

I.  Sept.  3.  170I* 

WHY  fhould  our  joys  transform  to  pain? 
Why  gentle  Hymen's  filken  chain 
A  plague  of  iron  prove  : 
BENDYSH,^  'tis  ftrange  the  charm  that  binds 
Millions  of  hands,  fhould  leave  their  minds 
At  fuch  a  loofe  from  love. 

}i. 

In  vain  I  fought  the  wondrous  caufe, 
Rang'd  the  wide  fields  of  nature's  laws, 

And  urg'd  the  fchools  in  vain ; 
Then  deep  in  thought  within  my  hreaft 
My  foul  retir'd,  and  flumber  drefs'd 

A  bright  inftrutlive  fcene. 
III. 
O'er  the  broad  lands,  and  crofs  the  tide, 
On  fancy's  airy  horfe  I  ride, 

(Sweet  rapture  of  the  mind!) 
Till  on  the  banks  of  Ganges  flood, 
In  a  tall  antient  grove  I  flood 

For  facred  ufe  defign'd. 


200       LYRIC    POEMS,      Book  II, 

IV. 

Hard  by,  a  venerable  prieft, 

Ris'n  with  his  God,  the  fun,  from  reft, 

Awoke  his  morning  fong; 
Thrice  he  conjur'd  the  murm'ring  dream; 
The  birth  of  fouls  were  all  his  theme, 

And  half  divine  his  tongue. 
V. 
"  He  fang  th'  eternal  rolling  flame, 
"  That  vital  mafs,  that  ftill  the  fame 

"  Does  all  our  minds  compofe  : 
"  But  fhap'd  in  twice  ten  thoufand  frames; 
"  Thence  difTring  fouls  of  differing  names, 

?'  And  jarring  tempers  rofe. 
VI. 
"  The  mighty  power  that  form'd  the  mind 
"  One  mould  for  every  two  defignNi, 

•'  And  blefs'd  the  new-born  pair; 
"  This  be  a  match  for  this:  (he  faid) 
"  Then  down  he  fent  the  fouls  he  made, 

41  To  feek  them  bodies  here : 
VII. 
"  But  parting  from  their  warm  abode 
"  Thev  loft  their  fellows  on  the  road, 

"  And  never  join'd  their  hands: 
11  Ah  cruel  chance,  and  eroding  fates! 
"  Our  eaftern  fouls  have  dropt  their  mates 

■■  On  Europe's  barbarous  lands. 
VIII. 
"  Happy  the  youth  that  finds  the  bride 
"  Whofe  birth  is  to  his  own  ally'd, 

"  The  fvveeteft  joy  of  life: 
11  But  oh!  the  crowds  of  wretched  fouls 
**  Fetter'd  to  minds  of  different  moulds, 

44  And  chain'd  t'  eternal  ftrife ! 

IX. 


me. 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c.        201 

IX. 

Thus  fang  the  wond'rous  Indian  bard; 
My  foul  with  vaft  attention  heard, 

While  Ganges  ceas'd  to  flow; 
"  Sure  then.  (I  cry'd)  might  I  but  fee 
"  That  gentle  nymph  that  twinn'd  with 

««"l  may  be  happy  too. 
X. 
"  Some  courteous  angel,  tell  me  where, 
"  What  diftant  lands  this  unknown  fair, 

"   Or  diftant  feas  detain? 
«  Swift  as  the  wheel  of  nature  rolls 
"  I'd  fly,  to  meet  and  mingle  fouls, 

"  And  wear  the  joyful  chain. 


The   Happy   Man, 
I. 

SERENE  as  light,  is  MYRON's  foul, 
And  active  as  the  fun,  yet  fteady  as  the  pole ", 
In  manly  beauty  fhines  his  face; 

Every  mufe,  and  every  grace, 
"  Makes  his  heart  and  tongue  their  feat, 
His  heart  profufely  good,  his  tongue  divinely  fweet. 
MYRON,  the  wonder  of ■  our  eyes, 
Behold  his  manhood  fcarce  begun  1 
Behold  his  race  of  virtue  run! 
Behold  the  goal  of  glory  won! 
Nor  Fame  denies  the  merit,  nor  with-holds  the  prize. 
Her  filver  trumpets  his  renown  proclaim  : 
The  lands  where  learning  never  flew, 
Which  neither  Rome  nor  Athens,  knew, 
Surly  Japan  and  rich  Peru, 
In  barbarous  fongs,   pronounce  the  Britifh  Hero's 
name. 

"  A«7 


202       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

"  Airy  blifs  (the  hero  cry'd) 
"  May  feed  the  tympany  of  pride; 
"  But  healthy  fouls  were  never  found 
*'  To  live  on  emptinefs  and  found. 

II. 
"  Lo,  at  his  honorable  feet 
Fame's  bright  attendant,  Wealth,  appears; 
She  comes  to  pay  obedience  meet, 
Providing  joys  for  future  years ; 
Bleffings  with  lavifh  hand  fhe  pours 
Gather' d  from  the  Indian  coaft; 
Not  Danae's  lap  could  equal  treafures  boaft, 
When  Jove  came  down  in  golden  fhow'rs. 
He  look'd  and  turn'd  his  eyes  away, 
With  high  difdain  I  heard  him  fay, 
"  Blifs  is  not  made  of  glittering  day. 
III. 
Now  pomp  and  grandeur  court  his  head 
Wirh  fcutcheons,  arms,  and  enfigns  fpread: 
Gay  magnificence  and  ftate, 
Guards,  and  chariots,  at  his  gate, 
And  flaves  in  endlefs  order  round  his  table  wait ; 
They  learn  the  dictates  of  his  eyes, 
And  now  they  fall,  and  now  they  rife, 
Watch  every  motion  of  their  Lord, 
Hang  on  his  lips  with   moft  impatient  zeal, 
With  fwift  ambition  feize  th'  unfinifiVd  word, 
And  the  command  fulfil.     * 
Tir'd  with  the  train  that  grandeur  brings, 
He  dropt  a  tear,  and  pity'd  kings; 
Then   flying  from  the  noify  throng, 
Seeks  the  diverfion  of  a  fong. 
IV. 
Musick  defcending  on  a  filent  cloud, 

Tun'd  all  her  firings  with  endlefs  art; 
By  flow  degrees  from  foft  to  loud 

Changing 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.        a©3 

Changing  (he  rofe;  the  harp  and  flute 
Harmonious  join,  the  hero  to  falute, 

And  make  a  captive  ©f  his  heart. 
Fruits,  and  rich  Wine,  and  fcenes  of  lawlefs  Loye 

Each  with  utmoft  luxury  ftrove 
To  treat  their  favourite  beft; 

But  founding  firings,  and  fruits,  and  wine, 

And  lawlefs  love  in  vain  combine 
To  make  his  virtue  fleep,  or  lull  his  foul  to  reft. 

y. 

He  faw  the  tedious  round,  and,  with  a  figh, 

Pronounc'd  the  world  but  vanity. 

"  In  crowds  of  pleafure  flill  I  find 

"  A  painful  folitude  of  mind. 
"  A  vacancy  within  which  fenfe  can  ne'er  fupply» 

"  Hence,  and  begone,  ye  flatt'ring  fnares, 

"  Ye  vulgar  charms  of  eyes  and  ears, 

"  Ye  unperforming  promifers! 

"  Be  all  my  bafer  paffions  dead, 

*'  And  bafe  defires,  by  nature  made 
"  For  animals  and  boys; 

"  Man  has  a  relifh  more  refin'd, 

V  Souls  are  for  focial  blifs  defign'd, 
*}  Give  me  a  bleffing  fit  to  match  my  mind, 
"  A  kindred  foul  to  double  and  to  (hare  my  joys. 
VL 

MYRHA  appear'd  :  ferine  her  foul 
And  ailive  as  the  fun,  yet  Jieady  as  the  pole  ; 

In  fofter  beauties  pone  her  face  ; 

Every  mufe  and  every  grace, 
Made  her  heart  and  tongue  their  feat, 
Her  heart  profufely  good,  her  tongue  divinely  fweei; 

MYRRHA  the  -wonder  of  his  eyes; 

His  heart  recoiPd  with  fweet  furprize, 
With  joys  unknown  before: 

His  foul  diflblv'd  in  pleafing  pain, 

Flow'd 


204       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

Flow'd  to  his  eyes,  and  look'd  again, 

And  could  endure  no  more. 
"  Enough!   (th'  impatient  hero  cries) 

"  And  feiz'd  her  to  his  bread, 
"  I  feek  no  more  below  the  Ikies, 

"  I  give  my  flaves  the  reft. 


To     DAVID     POLHILL,     Efq; 

An  Anfwerto  an  infamous  Satyr,  called,  Advice  to 
a  Painter/  written  by  a  namelels  Author,  againft 
King  William  III.  of  glorious  Memory,  1698. 

S  1  R, 

Ifi/H  -k'  AT  you  put  this  fatyr  into  my  band,  you  gave  me 
the  occafion  of  employing  my  pen  to  anfwtr  fo  defer- 
able a  -writing;  -which  might  be  done  much  more  effectually 
ly  your  known  zeal  for  the  inter  eft  of  his  majcfty,  your 
counfels  and  your  courage  employed  in  the  defence  of  your 
king  and  country.  And  fine e  you  provoked  me  to  -write, 
you  -will  accept  ofthefe  efforts  of  my  loyalty  to  the  heft  of 
kings,  addrejfed  to  one  of  the  nioft  zealous  of  his  fubjetls, 
by  Sir,  your  moft  obedient  iervant,  I.  W. 

PART    I. 

AND  muft  the  hero,  that  redcem'd  our  land, 
Here  in  the  front  of  vice  and  fcandal  (land  ? 
The  man  of  wondrous  foul,  that  fcorn'd  his  eaie, 
Tempting  the  winter's  and  the  faith lefs  feas, 
And  paid  an  annual  tribute  of  his  life 
To  guard  his  England  from  the  liifh  knife, 
And  crufli  the  French  dragoon  ?    Muft  William's 

name, 
That  brighteft  ftar  that  gilds  the  wings  of  fame, 
William  the  brave,  the  pious,  and  the  juft 
Adorn  thefe  gloomy  fcenes  of  tyranny  and  luft? 

POLHILL, 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c*        205 

Polhilx,,  my  blood  boils  high,  my  fpirits  flame; 
Can  your  zeal  fleep !  Or  are  your  paflions  tame  ? 
Nor  call  revenge  and  darknefs  on  the  poet's  name? 
Why  fmokethe  fldes  not?  Why  no  thunders  rolH 
Nor  kindling  lightnings  blaft  his  guilty  foul? 
Audacious  wretch!  to  ftab  a  monarch's  fame, 
And  fire  his  fubjefts  with  a  rebel-flame; 
To  call  the  painter  to  his  black  defigns, 
To  draw  our  guardian's  face  in  hellifh  lines : 
Painter,  beware !  the  monarch  can  be  fliown  ^ 
Under  no  Chape  but  angels,  or  his  own,  > 

Gabriel,  or  William,  on  the  Britifh  throne,    j 

O!  could  my  thought  but  grafp  the  vaft  defign, 
And  words  with  infinite  ideas  join, 
I'd  roufe  Apelles  from  his  iron  fleep, 
And  bid  him  trace  the  warrior  o'er  the  deep  % 
Trace  him,  Apelles,  o'er  the  Belgian  plain, 
Fierce,  how  he  climbs  the  mountains  of  the  ftai 
Scattering  juft  vengeance  thro'  the  red  campaign. 
Then  dam  the  canvas  with  a  flying  ftroke,  °% 

Till  it  be  loft  in  clouds  of  fire  and  fmoke,  ( 

And  fay,  'Twas  thus  the  Conqueror  thro8  the  T 
fquadrons  broke,  J» 

Mark  him  again  emerging  from  the  cloud,  7 

Far  from  his  troops^  there  like  a  rock  he  flood,,  r 
His  country's  (ingle  barrier  in  a  fea  of  blood,  J 
Calmly  he  leaves  the  pleafures  of  a  throiae,  "1 

And  his  Maria  weeping:  whilfl:  alone  r 

He  wards  the  fate  of  nation  s .  and  provokes  his  own :  J 
But  heav'n  fecures  its  champion  ;  o'er  the  field  "> 
Paint  hov'ring  angels ;  tho' they  fly  conceal'd,  > 
Each  intercepts  a  death,  and  wears  it  on  his  dueld.  J 

Now,  noble  pencil,  lead  him  to  our  Ifle, 
Mark  how  the  ikies  with  joyful  luftre  fmile, 
Then  imitate  the  glory  on  the  ftrand 
Spread  half  the  nation,  longing  till  he  land, 

S  Walk 


lain,  C- 
lign.i 


J 


206     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II, 

Wafh  off  the  blood ,  and  take  a  peaceful  teint. 
All  red  the  warrior,  white  the  ruler  paint; 
Abroad  a  hero,  and  at  home  a  faint. 
Throne  him  on  high  upon  a  mining  feat, 
Luft  and  prophanenefs  dying  at  his  feet, 
While  round  his  head  the  laurel  and  the  olive  mee 
The  crowns  of  war  and  peace;   and  may  they  blow 
With  flow'ry  bleffings  ever  on  his  brow. 
At  his  right  hand  pile  up  theEnglifh  laws 
In  facred  volumes;  thence  the  monarch  draws 

His  wife  and  juft  commands 

Rife,  ye  old  fages  of  the  Britifh  ifle, 

On  the  fair  tablet  caft  a  reverend  fmile, 

And  blefs  the  piece;  thefe  ftatues  are  your  own, 

That  fway  the  cottage,  and  direct  the  throne; 

People  and  prince  are  one  in  William's  name,  ' 

Their  joys,  their  dangers,  and  their  laws  the  fame. 

Let  liberty,  and  right,  with  plumes  difplay'd, 
Clap  their  glad  wingsaround  theirgnardian'shead, 
Religion  o'er  the  reft  her  ftarry  pinions  fpread. 
Religion  guards  him;  round  th'  Imperial  Queen 
Place  waiting  virtues,   each  of  heav'nly  mein  ; 
Learn  their  bright  air,  and  paint  it  from  his  eyes; 
Thejuft,  the  bold,  the  temperate,  and  the  wife, 
Dwell  in  his  looks  :  majeftic,  butferene;  "^ 

Sweet  with  no  fondnefs  ;  chearful,  but  not  vain:  > 
Bright,  without  terror,   great  without  difdain.       J 
His  f>ul  infpiresus  what  his  lips  command, 
And  fpreads  his  brave  example  thro'  the  land  : 

Not  fo  the  former  reigns;- 

Bend  down  his  ear  to  each  afflicted  cry. 
Let  beams  of  grace  dart. gently  from  his  eye; 
But  the  bright  treafures  of  his  facred  bread 
Are  too  divine,  too  vaft  to  be  cxpreft: 
Colours  mart  fail  where  words  and  numbers  faint, 
And  leave  the  heroc's  heart  for  thought  alone  to  paint. 

PART 


:'d,S' 

°ad,  y 
I      3 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.      207 


PART    11. 

NOW,  mufe,  purfue  the  Satyrift  again, 
Wipe  off  the  hlots  of  his  invenom'd  pen  ; 
Hark,  how  he  bids  the  fervile  painter  draw,     . 
In  monftrous  (hapes,  the  patrons  of  our  law; 
At  one  flight  dafh  he  cancels  every  name 
From  the  white  rolls  of  honefty  and  fame  : 
This  fcribling  wretch  marks  all  he  meets  for  knave, 
Shoots  fudden  bolts  promifcuous  at  the  bafe  and  brave, 
And  with  unpardonable  malice  fheds 
Poifon  and  fpite  on  undiitinguifh'd  heads. 
Painter,  forbear;  or  if  thy  bolder  hand 
Dares  to  attempt  the  villains  of  the  land, 
Draw  firit  this  poet,  like  fome  baleful  flar, 
With  fi  lent  influence  fhedding  civil  war: 
Or  factious  trumpeter,  whofe  magic  found 
Calls  off  the  fubjects  to  the  hoftile  ground, 
And  fcatters  hellilh  feiads  the  nation  round. 
Thefe  are  the  imps  of  hell,  that  curfed  tribe 
That  firft  create  the  plague,   and  then   the  pain, 
defcribe. 
Draw  next  above,  the  great  ones  of  our  ifle, 
Still  from  the  good  diftinguifhing  the  vile  ; 
Seat  'em  in  pomp,  in  grandeur,  and  command, 
Peeling  the  fubjedts  with  a  greedy  hand: 
Paint  forth  the  knaves  that  have  the  nation  fold, 
And  tinge  their  greedy  looks  with  fordid  gold. 
Mark  what  a  felfiih  faction  undermines 
The  pious  monarch's  generous  defigns, 
Spoil  their  own  native  land  as  vipers  do, 
Vipers  that  tear  their  mother's  bowels  through. 
Let  great  NafTau,  beneath  a  careful  crown,  "> 
Mournful  in  majefty  look  gently  down,         > 
Mingling  foft  pity  with  an  awful  frown  :     J 

Sa  He 


,? 


2o8       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

1 


He  grieves  to  fee  how  long  in  vain  he  (trove 
To  make  us  blefl,  how  vain  his  labours  prove 
To  iave  the  ftuhborn  land  he  condefcends  to  love 


i. 

then  C 

gain.  J 


To  the  Difcontented  and  Unquiet, 

Imitated  partly  from  Cafimire,  B.  4.  Od.  IJ. 

VARIA,  there's  nothing  here  that's  free 
From  wearifome  anxiety  : 
And  the  whole  round  of  mortal  joys 
With  fhort  poiTeiTion  tires  and  cloys: 
'Tis  a  dull  circle  that  we  tread, 
juft  from  the  window  to  the  bed. 
We  rife  to  fee  and  to  be  feen, 
Gaze  on   the  world   a-while,  and 
We  yawn,  and  frretch   to  fleep  again. 
But  Fancy,  that  uneafy  gucft, 
Still  holds  a  lodging  in  our  breaft; 
She  finds  or  frames  vexations  frill, 
-Herfclf  the  greatelr  plague  we  feel, 
We  take  ftrange  pleafure  in  our  pain, 
And  make  a,  mountain  of  a  grain, 
AlTume  the  load,  and  pant  and  fweat 
Beneath  th'  imaginary  weight. 
With  our  dear  felves  we  live  at  frrife, 
While  the  tnoft  conftant  fcenes  of  life 
From  peevifh  humours  arc  not  free; 
Still  we  arTeft  variety : 
Rather  than  pafs  an  eafy  day, 
We  fret  and  chide  the  hours  away, 
Grow  weary  of  this  circling  fun, 
And  vex  that  he  fhould  ever  run 
The  fame  old  track;  and  (rill,  and  (till 
Rife  red  behind  yon  eaftern  hill, 
And  chide  the  moon  that  darts  her  light 
Thro*  the  fame  cafement  every  night.  We 


1 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c,      209 

"We  fhift  our  chambers,  and  our  homes, 
To  dwell  where  trouble  never  comes: 
Sylvia  has  left  the  city  crowd, 
Againft  the  court  exclaims  aloud, 
Flies  to  the  woods;  a  hermit- faint! 
She  loaths  her  patches,  pins,  and  paint, 
Dear  diamonds  from  her  neck  are  torn  : 
But  Humour,  that  eternal  thorn, 
Sticks  in  her  heart:  fhe's  hurry'd  ftill, 
'Twixt  her  wild  paffions  and  her  will. 
Haunted  and  hagg'd  where-e'er  me  roves, 
By  purling  ftreams,  and  filent  groves, 
Or  with  her  furies,  or  her  loves. 

Then  our  own  native  land  we  hate, 
Too  cool,  too  windy,  or  too  wet  ; 
Change  the  thick  climate,  and  repair 
To  France  or  Italy  for  air; 
In  vain  we  change,  in  vain  we  fly ; 
Go,  Sylvia,  mount  the  whirling  Iky, 
Or  ride  upon  the  feather'd  wind 
In  vain;  if  this  difeafed  mind 
Clings  faft,  and  ftill  fits  clofe  behind. 
Faithful  difeafe,  that  never  fails 
Attendance  at  her  lady's  fide, 
Over  the  defert  or  the  tide, 
On  rolling  wheels,  or  flying  fails. 

Happy  the  foul  that, virtue  fhows 
To  fix  the  place  of  her  repofe, 
Needlefs  to  move;  for  (he  can  dwell 
In  her  old  grandfire's  hall  as  well. 
Vjrtue  that  never  loves  to  roam, 
But  fweetly  hides  herfelf  at  home, 
And  eafy  on  a  native  throne 
Of  humble  turf  fits  gently  down. 

Yet  mould  tumultuous  ftorms  arife, 
And  mingle  earth,  and  feas,  and  ikies, 

S  3  Should 


1 


2io     LYRIC  POEMS,    Bookll 

Should  the  waves  fwell,  and  make  her  roll 
Acrofs  the  line,  or  near  the  pole, 
Still  lhe's  at  peace;  for  well  (he  knows       =% 
To  launch  the  ftream  that  duty  fhows         C 
And  makes  her  home  where-e'er  fhe  goes.  J 
Bear  her,  ye  feas,  upon  your  breaft, 
Or  waft  her,  winds,  from  Eaft  to  Weft 
On  the  foft  air;  fhe  cannot  find        "Y 
A  couch  fo  eafy  as  her  mind,  r 

Nor  breathe  a  climate  half  fo  kind.  ^ 

To     JOHN     HARTOPP,     Efp 

Now  Sir  John  Hartopp,  Bart. 

Cafimire,  Book  I.   Ode  4.  imitated. 

Viva  jucund*  metuens  juventa,  &c. 

Jufy,  Ifotf.. 
I. 

LIVE,  my  dear  HARTOPP,  live  to  day, 
Nor  let  the  fun  look  down  and  fay, 
"  Inglorious  here  he  lies, 
Shake  off  your  eafe,  and  fend  your  name 
To  immortality  and  fame, 
By  ev'ry  hour  that  flies. 
II. 
Youth's  a  foft  fcene,  but  truft  her  not: 
Her  airy  minutes,  fwift  as  thought, 

Slide  off  the  fypp'ry  fphere; 
Moons  with  their  months  make  hafly  rounds. 
The  fun  has  paft  his  vernal  bound*, 
And  whirls  about  the  year. 
III. 
Let  folly  drefs  in  green  and  red, 
And  gird  her  wafte  with  flowing  gold; 

Knit 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c«     an 

Knit  bluftiing  rofes  round  her  head, 
Alas!  the  gaudy  colours  fade, 

The  garment  waxes  old. 
HARTOFP,  mark  the  withering  rofe, 
And  the  pale  gold  how  dim  it  (hows? 

IV. 
Bright  and  lafting  blife  below 
Is  all  romance  and  dream; 
Only  the  joys  celeftial  flow 

In  an  eternal  dream. 
The  pleafures  that  the  fmiling  day 

With  large  right  hand  beftows, 
Falfely  her  left  conveys  away, 

And  (huffies  in  our  woes. 
So  have  I  feen  a  mother  play, 

And  cheat  her  filly  child. 
She  gave  an<f  took  a  toy  away^ 
The  infant  cry'd  and  fmil'd, 
V. 
Airy  chance,  and  iron  fate 
Hurry  and  vex  our  mortal  ftate,  < 
And  all  the  race  of  ills  create; 
Now  fiery  joy,  now  fallen  grief, 
Commands  the  reins  of  human  life* 

The  wheels  impetuous  roll; 
The  harneft  hours  and  minutes  ftrive, 
And  days  with  ftretcbing  pinions  drive— -~ 
- — down  fiercely  on  the  goal. 
VI. 
Not  half  fo  faft  the  galley  flies 

O'er  the  Venetian  fea, 
When  fails,  and  oars,  and  lab'ring  flues 

Contend  to  make  her  way. 
Swift  wings  for  all  the  flying  hours 

The  God  of  time  prepares, 
The  reft  lie  ft  ill  yet  in  their  neft 
And  grow  for  future  years.  T  O 


212        LYRIC  POEMS,     Book II. 

To    THOMAS     GUNSTON,    Efq; 

1700. 

Happy   Solitude* 

Cajim\rey  Book  4.     Ode  1%.     Imitated. 
<^uid  me  latentem,  &c. 

THE  noify  world  complains  of  me 
That  I  mould  fhun  their  fight  and  flee 
Vifits,  and  crowds,  and  company. 
GUNSTON,  the  lark  dwells  in  her  neft 

Tilt  flic  afcend  the  fkies; 
And  in  my  clofet  I  could  reft 
Till  to  the  heavens  I  rife. 
II. 
Yet  they  will  urge,  "  this  private  life 
"   Can   never  make  you  bleft, 
"  And  twenty  doors  are  ftill  at  frrife 
"  T'  engage  you  for  a  gueft. 
Friend,  fhouid  the    towers  of  Windfor  or  White- 
hall, 
Spread  open  their  inviting  gates 
To  make  my  entertainment  gay; 
I  would  obey  the  royal  call, 

But  ihort  mould  he  my  ftay, 
Since  a  diviner  fervice  waits 
T'  employ    my   hours  at    home,    and  better    fill 
the  day. 

III. 
When  I  within  myfelf  retreat, 
I  (hut  my  doors  a^ainfl:  the  great  J 
My  bufy  eye  balis  inward  roll, 

And 


Sacred  t o  Virtue,  &c.        213 

And  there  with  large  furvey  I  fee 
All  the  wide  theatre  of  me, 
And  view  the  various  fcenes  of  my  retiring  foul; 
There  I  walk  o'er  the  mazes  I  have  trod,  ' 
While  hope  and  fear  are  in  a  doubtful  ftrife, 

-     Whether  this  opera  of  life 
Be  afted  well  to  gain  the  plaudit  of  my  God. 

IV. 
There's  a  day  baftning,  ('tis  an  awful  day!) 
When  the  great  fovereign  fhall  at  large  review 

All  that  we  fpeak,  and  all  we  do, 
The  feveral  parts  we  aft  on  this  wide  ftage  of  clay  I 

Thefe  he  approves,  and  thofe  he  blames, 
And  crowns  perhaps  a  porter,  and  a  prince  he  damns, 
O!  if  the  judge  from  his  tremendous  feat 
Shall  not  condemn  what  1  have  done, 
I  fhall  be  happy,  tho'  unknown, 
Nor  need  the  gazing  rabble,  nor  the  (houting  flreet, 
V. 
I  hate  the  glory,  friend,  that  fprings 
From  vulgar  breath,  and  empty  found; 
Fame  mounts  her  upward  with  a  fiatt'ring  gale 

Upon  her  airy  wings, 
Till  envy  (hoots,  and  fame  receives  the  wound" 
Then  her  flagging  pinions  fail, 
Down  glory  falls  and  (hikes  the  ground, 
And  breaks  her  batter'd  limbs. 
Rather  let  me  be  quite  cohceal'd  from  fame; 
How  happy  I  mould  lie 
In  fweet  obfcurity, 
Nor  the  loud  world  pronounce  my  little  name! 
Here  I  could  live  and  die  alone ; 
Or  if  fociety  be  due 
To  keep  our  tafte  of  pleafure  new, 

GUNSTON,  I'd  live  and  die  with  you, 
For  both  our  fouls  are  one. 


214       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

VI. 

Here  we  could  fit  and  pafs  the  hour, 
And  pity  kingdoms,  and  their  kings, 
And  fmile  at  all  their  mining  things, 
Their  toys  of  Mate,  and  images  of  power; 
Virtue  mould  dwell  within  our  feat, 
Virtue  alone  could  make  it  fweet, 
Nor  is  herfelf  fecure,  but  in  a  clofe  retreat. 
While  (he  withdraws  from  publick  praife 
Envy  perhaps  would  ceafe  to  rail, 
Envy  itfelf  may  innocently  gaze 
At  beauty  in  a  vail : 
But  if  me  once  advance  to  light, 
Her  charms  are  loft  in  envy's  fight, 
And  virtue  (lands  the  mark  of  univerfal  fpight. 


To     JOHN    H  A  RTO  P  P9      Efq; 
Now  Sir  John  HARropr,  Bart. 

The  Difdain. 

1700. 

HARTOPP,  I  love  the  foul  that  dares 
Tread  the  temptations  of  his  years 
Beneath  his  youthful  feet : 
FLEETWOOD,  and  all  thy  heavenly  line, 
Look  thro'  the  flars,  and  fmile  divine 

Upon  an  heir  fo  great. 
Young  HARTOPP  knows  this  noble  theme, 
That  the  wild  fcenes  of  bufy  life, 
The  noife,  th'  amufements,  and  the  ft  rife, 
Are  but  the  vifions  of  the  night, 
Gay  phantoms  of  delufive  light, 
Or  a  vexatious  dream. 

U. 


Sacred  ?o  Virtue,  &c.        215 
11. 

Fle(h  is  the  vileft,  ^nd  the  leafl 

Ingredient  of  our  frame: 
We're  born  to  live  above  the  beaft, 

Or  quit  the  manly  name. 
Pleafures  of  feafe  we  leave  for  boys; 
Be  mining  duft  the  miier's  food; 
Let  fancy  feed  on  fame  and  noife, 
Souls  mull  purfue  diviner  joys, 

And  feize  th'  immortal  good. 


To  Mir 10,  my  FRIEND. 

An  EPISTLE. 
PO  RGIVE  me,  M I T I O  t  that  there  Jhould  he  any 
*  mortifying  lines  in  the  following  poems  inferibed  to  you, 
fofoon  after  your  entrance  into  that  fate  -which  -was  de- 
figndfor  the  compleatefthappinefs  on  earth:  hut  you  -will 
quickly  difcover,  that  the  niuje  in  the  firjl poem  only  re~ 
prefents  thejhades  and  dark  colours  that  melancholy  throws 
upon  love,  and  the  focial  life.  In  the  fecond,  perhaps 
jhe  indulges  her  o-wn  bright  ideas  a  little.  Yet  if  the  ac- 
counts are  bid  well  balanced  at  lafi,  and  things  fet  in  a 
due  light,  I  hope  there  is  no  ground  for  cenfure.  Here 
you  will  find  an  attempt  made  to  talk  of  one  of  the  moft 
important  concerns  of  human  nature  in  verfe,  and  that 
with  a  folemnitv  becoming  the  argument.  I  have  hanijh- 
ed  grimace  and  ridicule  thatperfons  of  the  moft  ferious  cha- 
racter may  read  without  offence.  What  was  written  fe- 
veral years  ago  to  y our f elf  is  now  permitted  to  entertain 
the  world ;  but  you  may  aflame  it  to  yourfelf  as  a  private 
entertainment  jtill,  while  you  Ik  concealed  behind  a  feign' 
ed  name. 

The 


216       LYRIC   POEMS,     Book  II. 
The  Mourning  Piece. 

LIFE'S  a  long  tragedy  :  this  globe  the  ftage, 
Well  fix'd  and  well  adorn'd  with  ftrong  ma- 
chines, 
Gay  fields,  and  flues,  and  feas;  the  aftors  many  i 
The  Plotimmenfe:  a  flight  of  Daemons  fit 
On  every  failing  cloud  with  fatal  purpofe ; 
And  (hoot  acrofs  the  fcenes  ten  thoufand  arrows 
Perpetual  and  unfeen,  headed  with  pain, 
With  forrow,  infamy,  difeafe  and  death       , 
The  pointed  plagues  fly  filent  thro*  the  air, 
Nor  twangs  the  bow,  yet  fure  and  deep  the  wound. 

Dianthe  acts  her  little  part  alone, 
Nor  wiflies  an  aflociate.    Lo  fhe  glides 
Single  thro'  all  the  ftorm,  and  more  fecure ; 
hefs  are  her  dangers,  and  her  breaft  receives 
The  fewefl:  darts.     "  But,  O  my  lov'd  Marilla, 
"  My  fitter,  once  my  friend,  (Dianthe  cries) 
•'  How  much  art  thou  expos'd!  thy  growing  foul 
■'  Doubled  in  wedlock,  multiply'd  in  children, 
"  Stands  but  the  broader  mark  forall  the  mifchiefs 
"  That  rove  promifcuous  o'er  the  mortal  ftage : 
c'  Children  thofe  dear  young  limbs,  thofe  tendered 

pieces 
"  Of  your  own  flefh,  thofe  little  other  felves, 
«'  How  they  dilate  the  heart  to  wide  dimenfions, 
4t  Andfoften  every  fibre  to  improve 
«c  The  mother's  fad  capacity  of  pain  ! 
«*  I  mourn  Fidelio  too;  tho'  heaven  has  chofe 
4<  A  favourite  mate  for  him,  of  all  her  fex 
tl  The  pride  and  flower :  how  bleft  the  lovely  pair, 
<s  Beyond  expreffion,  if  well  mingled  loves 
"  And  woes  well  mingled  could  improve  our  blifsl 
<{  Amidft  the  rugged  cares  of  life  behold 

The 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.       217 

"  The  father  and  the  hufband;  flattering  names, 

**  That  fpread  his  title,  and  enlarge  his  [hare, 

*»  Of  common  wretchednefs.     He  fondly  hopes 

**  To  multiply  his  joys,  but  every  hour 

"  Renews  the  difappointment  and  the  fmart. 

"  There's  not  a  wound  afflicts  the  meaneft  joint 

*•  Of  his  fair  partner,  or  her  infant  train, 

"  (Sweet  babes! )  but  pierces  to  his  inmoft  foul. 

"  Strange  is  thy  power,  O  love !  what  numerous 

"  veins, 
Jt  And  arteries,  and  arms,  and  hands,  and  eyes, 
*'  Are  link'd  and  faften'd  to  a  lover's  heart, 
"  By  ftrong  but  fecret  firings!  with  vain  attempt 
«'  We  put  the  Stoic  on,  in  vain  we  try 
"  To  break  the  ties  of  nature  and  of  blood; 
t(  Thofe  hidden  threads  maintain  the   dear  com- 
munion 
ct  Inviolably  firm :  their  thrilling  motions 
«'  Reciprocal  give  endlefs  fympathy 
44  In  all  the  bitters  and  the  fweets  of  life. 
«'  Thrice  happy  man,  if  pleafure  only  knew 
"  Thefe  avenues  of  love  to  reach  our  fouls, 
*'  And  pain  had  never  found  'em. 

Thus  fang  the  tuneful  maid,  fearful  to  try 
The  bold  experiment.     Oft  Daphnis  came, 
And  oft  NarcifTus,  rivals  of  her  heart,  - 
.Luring  her  eyes  with  trifles  dipt  in  gold, 
And  the. gay  filken  bondage.     Firm  fhe  flood. 
And  bold  repuls'd  the  bright  temptation  (till, 
Nor  put  the  chains  on  ;  Dangerous  to  try, 
And  hard  to  be  diflblv'd.     Yet  rifing  tears 
Sate  on  her  eye-lids,  while  her  numbers  flow'd 
Harmonious  forrow;   and  the  pitying  drops 
Stole  down  her  cheeks,  to  mourn  the  hapl  efs  date 
Of  mortal  love.     Love  thou  heft:  bleffing  fent 
To  foften  life,  and  make  our  iron  cares 

T  Eafy; 


ai8      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

Eafy :  but  thy  own  cares  of  fofter  kind 

Give  fharper  wounds :  they  lodge  too  near  the  heart, 

Beat  like  the  pulfe,  perpetual,  and  create 

A  ftrange  uneafy  fenfe,  a  tempting  pain. 

Say  my  companion  MITIO,  fpeak  fin  cere, 
(For  thou  art  learned  now)  what  anxious  thoughts, 
What  kind  perplexities  tumultuous  rife, 
If  but  the  abfence  of  a  day  divide 
Thee  from  thy  fair  beloved !  vainly  fmiles 
The  chearful  fun,  and  night  with  radiant  eyes 
Twinkles  in  vain  :  the  region  of  thy  foul 
Is  darknefs,  till  thy  better  ftar  appear. 
Tell  me,  what  toil,  what  torment  to  fuftain 
The  rolling  burden  of  the  tedious  hours  ? 
The  tedious  hours  are  ages,     Fancy  roves 
Reftiefs  in  fond  enquiry,  nor  believes 
CharifTa  fafe:  CharifTa,    in  whofe  life 
Thy  life  confifts,  and  in  her  comfort  thine. 
Fear  and  furmife  put  on  a  thoufand  forms 
Of  deardifquietude,  and  round  thine  ears 
Whifper  ten  thoufand  dangers,  endlefs  woes, 
Till  thy  frame  fhudders  at  her  fancy'd  death; 
Then  dies  my  MITIO,  and  his  blood  creeps  cold 
Thro'  every  vein.     Speak,  does  the  ftranger  mufc 
Caft  happy  guefles  at  the  unknown  paflion, 
Or  has  (he  fabled  all  ?  inform  me,  friend, 
Are  half  thy  joys  fincere?  thy  hopes  fulfill'd. 
Or  fruftrate?  here  commit  thy  fecret  griefs 
To  faithful  ears,  and  be  they  bury'd  here 
Jn  friendfhip  and  oblivion;   left  they  fpoil 
Thy  new-born  pleafures  with  diftafteful  gall. 
Nor  let  thine  eye  too  greedily  drink  in 
The  frightful  profpeel,  when  untimely  death 
Shall  make  wild  inroads  on  the  parent's  heart, 
And  his  dear  offspring  to  the  cruel  grave 
Are  dragg'd  in  fad  fucceflion,  while  his  foul 

Is 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.       219 

Is  torn  away  peace-meal :   thus  dies  the  wretch 
A  various  death,  and  frequent  e'er  he  quit 
The  theatre,  and  make  his  exit  final. 

But  if  his  deareft  half  his,  faithful  mate 
Survive,  and  in  the  fwecteft  faddeft  airs 
Of  love  and  grief,  approach  with  trembling  hand 
To  clofe  his  fwimming  eyes,  what  double  pangs 
What  racks,  what  twinges  rend  his  heart  firings  ofT 
From  the  fair  bofom  of  that  fellow-dove 
He  leaves  behind  to  mourn  ?  what  jealous  cares 
Hang  on  his  parting  foul,  to  think  his  love 
Expos'd  to  wild  oppreffion,  and  the  herd 
Of  favage  merr?  fo  parts  the  dying  turtle 
With  fobbing  accents,  with  fuch  fad  regret 
Leaves  his  kind  feather'd  mate  :  the  widow-bird 
Wanders  in  lonefome  fhades,  forgets  her  food, 
Forgets  her  life ;   or  falls  a  fpeedier  prey 
To  talon'd  faulcon's,  and  the  crooked  beak 
Of  hawks  athirft  for  blood 

The    Second     PART:    Or, 

The  bright   Vijion. 

THUS  far  the  mufe,  in  unaccuftom'd  mood, 
And  {trains  unpleafmg  to  a  lover's  ear, 
Indulg'd  a  gloom  of  thought;  and  thus  fhe  fang 
Partial:  for  melancholy'' s  hateful  form 
Stood  by  in  fable  robe  :  the  penfive  mufe 
Survey'd  the  darkfome  fcenes  of  life,   and  fought 
Some  bright  relieving  glimpfe,  fome  cordial  ray 
In  the  fair  world  of  love:  but  while  fhe  gaz'd 
Delightful  on  the  fiate  of  twin  born  fouls 
United,  blefs'd  the  cruel  fhade  apply'd 
A  dark  long  tube,  and  a  falfe  tinclur'd  glafs 
Deceitful;   blending  love  and  life  at  once 
Iq  darknefs,  and  Chaos,  and  the  common  mafs 

Ta  Of 


220     LYRIC   POEMS,     Book  II. 

Of  mifery :  now  Urania  feels  the  cheat, 

And  breaks  the  hated  optic  in  difdain. 

Swift  vanifhes  the  fudden  form,  and  lo 

The  fcene  Ihines  bright  with  blifs:  behold  the  place 

Where  mifchiefs  never  fly,  cares  never  come 

With  wrinkled  brow,  nor  anguifh,  nor  difeafe, 

Nor  malice  forky  tongu'd.    On  this  dear  fpot. 

MITIO  my  love  would  fix  and  plant  thy  ftation 

To  act  thy  part  of  life,  ferene  and  blcft 

With  the  fair  confort  fitted  to  thy  heart. 

Sure  'tis  a  vifion  of  that  happy  grove 
Where  the  firfl  authors  of  our  mournful  race 
•Liv'd  in  fweet  partner/hip!   one  hour  they  liv'd, 
But  chang'd  the  tefted  blifs  (imprudent  pair!) 
For  fin,  and  fhame,  and  this  wafte  wildernefs 
Of  briars,  and  nine  hundred  years  of  pain. 
The  wifhing  mufe  new  drefles  the  fair  garden 
Amid  this  defert  world,   with  budding  blifs, 
And  ever-grcens,  and  balms,  and  flow'ry  beauties 
Without  one  dangerous  tree;  there  heavenly  dews 
Nightly  defcending  (hall  impearl  the  grafs 
And  verdant  herbage  ;   drops  of  fragrancy 
Sit  trembling  on  the  fpires  :  the  fpicy  vapours 
Rife  with  the  dawn,  and  thro'  th'  air  diffus'd 
Salute  your  waking  fenies  with  perfume: 
While  vital  fruits  with  their  ambrofial  juice 
Renew  life's  purple  flood  and  fountain,  pure 
From  vicious  taint;   and  with  your  innocence 
Immortalize  the  ftructure  of  your  clay. 
On  this  new  paradife  the  cloudlefs  fkies 
Shall  fmile  perpetual,  while  the  lamp  of  day, 
With  flames  unfully'd,   (as  the  fabled  torch 
Of  Hymen)  meafures  out  your  golden  hours 
Along  his  Azure  road.     The  nuptial  moon 
In  milder  rays  ferene,  (hould  nightly  rife 
Fuil-orb'd  (if  heaven  and  nature  will  indulge 


Sacred  ta  Virtue,  &c.        z%t 

So  fair  an  emblem)  big  with  filver  joys, 

And  fHll  forget  her  wane.     The  feather'd  choir 

"Warbling  their  maker's  praife  on  early  wing, 

Or  perch'd  on    evening   bough,    (hall    join   your 

worfhip, 
Join  yourfweet  vefpers,  and  the  morning  fong, 

O  facred  fymphony !  Hark,  thro*  the  grove 
I  hear  the  found  divine!   I'm  all  attention, 
All  ear,  all  extafy;  unknown  delight! 
And  the  fair  mufe  proclaims  the  heav'n  below. 

Not  the  feraphic  minds  of  high  degree 
Difdain  converfe  with  men :  again  returning 
I  fee  th'  ethereal  hoft  on  downward  wing. 
Lo,  at  the  eaftern  gate  young  cherubs  fland 
Guardians,  commiflion'd  to  convey  their  joys 
To  earthly  lovers.     Go,  ye  happy  pair, 
Go  tafte  their  banquet,  learn  their  nobler  plcafures 
Supernal,  and  from  brutal  dregs  refin'd. 
Raphael  mall  teach  thee,  friend,  exalted  thoughts 
And  intellectual  blifs.     'Twas  Raphael  taught 
The  patriarch  of  our  progeny  th'  affairs 
Of  heaven  :  (fo  Milton  fings,  cnlightned  bard! 
Nor  mifs'd  his  eyes,  when  in  fublimeft  ftrain 
The  angel's  great  narration  he  repeats 
To  Albion's  fons  high  favour'd)  thou  (halt  learn 
Celeftial  lefTons  from  his  awful  tongue; 
And  with  foft  grace  and  interwoven  loves 
(Grateful  digreffion)  all  his  words  rehearfc 
To  thy  Cbarifla's  ear,  and  charm  her  foul. 
Thus  with  divine  difcourfe,  in  fhady  bowers 
Of  Eden,  our  firft  father  entertain'd 
Eve  his  fole  auditrefs;  and  deep  difpute 
With  conjugal  careffes  on  her  lip 
Solv'd  eafy,  and  abftrufeft  thoughts  reveal'd. 

Now  the  day  wears  apace,  now  MITIO  comes 
From  his  bright  tutor,  and  finds  out  his  mate. 

T  3  "  Behold 


222       LTRIC    POEMS,      Book  II, 

Behold  the  dear  aflbciates  feated  low 

On  humble  turf,   with  rofe  and  myrtle  fhow'd; 

But  high  their  conference!  how  felf-fuffic'd 

Lives  their  eternal  maker,  girt  aiound 

With  glories;   arm'd  with  thunders;  and  his  throne 

Mortal  accefs  forbids,  projefting  far 

Splendors  unfufTerable  and  radiant  death. 

With  reverence  and  abafement  deep  they  fall 

Before  his  fovereign  majefty,  to  pay 

Due  worfhip  :  then  his  mercy  on  their  fouls 

Smiles  with  a  gentler  ray,  but  fovertign  dill; 

And  leads  their  meditation  an  1  difcourfe 

Long  ages  backward,   and  acrofs  the  feas 

To  Bethlehem  of  Tudah  ;  there  the  foil, 

The  filial  godhead,  character  exprefs 

Of  brightnefs  inexpreffible,  laid  by 

His  beamy  robes,  and  made  defcent  to  earth 

Sprung  from  the  fons  of  Adam,  he  became 

A  fecond  father,  (tudious  to  regain 

Lofl:  paradife  for  men,  and  purchafe  heav'n. 

The  lovers  with  indearment  mutual  thus 
Promifcuous  talk'd,  and  queftions  intricate 
His  manly  judgment  (till  refolv'd,  and  ftill 
Held  her  attention  fix'd:   (he  mufing  fat 
On  the  fweet  mention  of  incarnate  love, 
Till  rapture  wak'd  her  voice  to  fofteft  (trains. 
"  She  fang  the  infant  God;   (myflerious  theme  t) 
*•*   How  vile  his  birth-place,  and  his  cradle  vile! 
"  The  ox  and  afs  his  mean  companions;  there 
"  In  habit  vile  the  (hepherds  flock  around, 
"   Saluting  the  great  mother,  and  adore 
"   Ifiael's  anointed  king,  the  appointed  heir 
"  Of  the  creation.      How  debas'd  he  lies 
"   Beneath  his  regal  date;  for  thee,   my  MITIO, 
*'  Debas'd  in  fervile  form;   but  angels  flood 
"  Miniftring  round  their  charge  with  folded  wings 

"  Qbfequious, 


Sacred  to   Virtue,   &c,       223 

*<  Obfequious,  tho'  unfeen;   while  lightfome  hours 

*«  Fulfill'd  the  day,  and  the  grey  evening  rofe. 

*'  Then  the  fair  guardians  hov'ring  o'er  his  head 

"  Wakeful  all  night,  drive  the  foul  fpirits  far, 

tf  And  with  their  fanning  pinionspurge  the  air 

'*  From  bufy  phantoms,  from  infeftious  damps, 

"  And  impure  taint;  while  their  ambrofial  plumes 

"  A~dewy  flumber  on  his  fenfes  fhed. 

"   Alternate  hymns  the  heav'nly  watchers  fung 

"  Melodious,  Toothing  the  furrounding  fhades, 

*«   And  kept  the  darknefs  chafte  and  holy.     Then 

"  Midnight  was  charm'd,  and  all  her  gazing  eyes 

"  Wonder'd  to  fee  their  mighty  maker  fleep. 

■'  Behold  the  glooms  difperie,  the  rofy  morn 

"  Smiles  in  the  eaft  with  eye-lids  opening  fair, 

*'  But  not  fo  fair  as  thine;   O  I  could  fold  thee, 

"  My  young  almighty,  my  creator-babe, 

*'  For  ever  in  thefe  arms!  for  ever  dwell 

"  Upon  thy  lovely  form  with  gazing  joys, 

*'   And  every  pulfe  Ihould  beat  feraphic  love! 

"   Around  my  <eat  fhould  crouding  cherubs  come 

**  With  fwift  ambitiony  zealous  to  attend 

"  Their  prince,  and  form  a  heav'n  below  the  fky<> 

"  Forbear,  CharifTa,   O  forbear  the  thought 
*c   Of  female-fondnefs,  and  forgive  the  man 
"  That  interrupts  fuch  melting  harmony! 
Thus  MITIO;  and  awakes  her  nobler  powers 
To  pay  juft  worfhip  to  the  facred  king, 
Jefus,  the  God;   nor  with  devotion  pure 
Mix  the  careffes  of  her  fofter  iex; 
(Vain  blandifhment !  )  "  Come,  turn  thine  eyes  afide 
"  From  Bethle'em,  and  climb  up  the  doleful  deep 
"  Of  bloody  Calvary,   where  naked  fculls 
"  Pave  the  fad  road,  and  fright  the  traveller. 
"  Can  my  beloved  bear  to  trace  the  feet 
"  Of  her  redeemer  panting  up  the  hill 

"Hard- 


224     LYRIC  POEMS,    Book II 

'  Hard-burden'd?  Can  thy  heart  attend  his  crofs 
[f  Nail'd  to  the  cruel  wood  he  groans,  he  dies, 
'*  For  thee  he  dies.     Beneath  thy  fins  and  mine 
"   (Horrible  load)  the  finlefs  faviour  groans, 
"  And  in  fierce  anguifh  of  his  foul  expires, 
"  Adoring  angels  pry  with  bending  head 
"  Searching  the  deep  contrivance,  and  admire 
"  This  infinite  defign.     Here  peace  is  made 
"  'Twixt  God  the  fovereign,  and  the  rebel  man; 
"  Here  Satan  overthrown  with  all  his  hofts 
"   In  fecond  ruin  rages  and  defpaits; 
"  Malice  itfelf  defpairs.     The  captive  prey 
*'  Long  held  in  flavery  hopes  a  fweet  releafe, 
"  And  Adam's  ruin'd  offspring  fhall  revive 
'*  Thus  ranfom'd  from  thegreedy  jaws  of  death. 

The  fair  difciple  heard  ;  her  pamons  move 
Harmonious  to  the  great  difcourfe,  and  breathe 
Refin'd  devotion;  while  new  fmiles  of  love 
Repay  her  teacher.     Both  with  bended  knees 
Read  o'er  the  covenant  of  eternal  life 
Brought  down  to  men;  feal'd  by  the  facred  three 
In  heav'n  and  feal'd  on  earth  with  God's  own  blood. 
Here  they  unite  their  names  again,  and  fign 
Thofe  peaceful  articles.     (Hail  bleft  co-heirs 
Coeleftial!  Ye  (hall  grow  to  manly  age, 
And  fpite  of  earth  and  hell  in  feafon  due 
Poflefs  the  fair  inheritance  above.) 
"With  joyous  admiration  they  furvey 
The  gofpel  treafures  infinite,   unfeen 
By  mortal  eye,  by  mortal  ear  unheard, 
And  unconceiv'd  by  thought:   riches  divine, 
And  honoftrs  which  th'  almighty  Father-God 
P'ur'd  with  immenfe  profusion  on  his  fon, 
High-treafurer  of  heaven.     The  fon  beftows 
The  life,   the  love,  the  Meffing,  and  the  joy, 
On  bankrupt  mortals  who  believe  and  love 

His 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c.        225 

His  name.     "  Then,  my  CharifTa,  all  is  thine. 
And  thine,  my  MITIO,  the  fair  faint  replies. 
Life,  death,  the  world  below,  and  worlds  on  high,, 
And  place,  and  time,  are  ours;  and  things  to 

"  come, 
And  part,  and  prefent,  for  our  intereft  ftands 
Firm  in  our  myftic  head,  the  title  fure. 
'Tis  for  our  health  and  fweet  refrefhment  (while 
We  fojourn  ftrangers  here)  the  fruitful  earth 
Bears  plenteous;   and  revolving  feafons  ftill 
Drefs  her  vaft  globe  in  various  ornament. 
For  us  this  ch earful  fun  and  chearful  light 
Diurnal  fhine.     This  blue  expanfe  of  Iky 
Hangs,  a  rich  canopy  above  our  heads 
Covering  our  flumbers,  all  with  ftarry  gold 
Inwrought,  when  night  alternates  her  return. 
For  us  time  wears  his  wings  out.     Nature  keeps 
Her  wheels  in  motion:  and  her  fab  rick  {lands* 
Glories  beyond  our  ken  of  mortal  fight 
Are  now  preparing,  and  a  manfion  fair 
Awaits  us,  where  the  faints  unbody'd  live. 
Spirits  releas'd  from  clay,  and  purg'd  from  fin  i 
Thither  our  hearts  with  mod:  incefiant  wifh, 
Panting  afpire;   when  lhall  that  deareft  hour 
Shine  and  releafe  us  hence,  and  bear  us  high, 
Bear  us  at  once  unfever'd  to  our  better  homel 
O  bleft  connubial  (rate!  O  happy  pair, 
Envy'd  by  yet  unfociated  fouls 
Who  feek  their  faithful  twins!  Your  pleafures  rife 
Sweet  as  the  morn,  advancing  as  the  day, 
Fervent  as  glorious  noon,   ferenely  calm 
As  fummer  evenings.     The  vile  fons  of  earth 
Groveling  in  duft  with  all  their  noify  jars 
Reftlefs,  (hall  interrupt  your  joys  no  more 
Than  barking  animals  affright  the  moon 
Sublime,  and  riding  in  her  midnight  way. 

Frienttihijp 


226       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

Friendfhip  and  love  fhall  undiftinguifh'd  reign 

O'er  all  your  paflions  with  unrival'd  fway 

Mutual  and  everlafting  :  friendlhip  knows 

No  property  in  good,  but  all  things  common 

That  each  pofleiTes,  as  the  light  or  air 

In  which  we  breathe  and  live:  there's  not  one  tho't 

Can  lurk  in  clofe  referve,  no  barriers  fix'd, 

But  every  paflage  open  as  the  day 

To  one  another's  bread,  and  inmofl  mind, 

Thus  by  communion  your  delight  (hall  grow, 

Thus  dreams  of  mingled  blifs  fwell  higher  as  they 

flow, 
Thus  angels  mix  their  flames,  and  more  divinely ' 

glow. 


The  Third  PART:  Or, 

The  Account  balanced. 
I. 

SHOULD  fovereign  love  before  me  ftand, 
With  all  his  train  of  pomp  and  ftate, 
And  bid  the  daring  mufe  relate 

His  comforts  and  his  cares; 
MTTIO,    I  would  not  afk  the  fand 
For  metaphc.s  t'  exprefs  their  weight, 
Nor  borrow  numbers  from  the  ftars. 
Thy  cares  and  comforts,   fovereign  love, 
Vaftly  out-weigh  the  fands  below, 
And  to  a  larger  audit  grow 

Than  all  the  ftars  above. 
Thy  mighty  lofes  and  thy  gains 

Are  their  own   mutual  meafures; 

Only  the  man  that  knows  thy  pains 
Can  reckon  up  thy  pleafure* 


Sacred  ^  Virtue,  &c.      227 
11. 

Say,  Damon,  fay,  how  bright  the  fcene, 

Damon  is  half  divinely  bleft, 
Leaning  his  head  on  his  Florella's  bread 
Without  a  jealous  thought,  or  bufy  care  between: 

Then  the  fweet  paflions  mix  and  fharej 

Florella  tells  thee  all  her  heart, 

Nor  can  thy  fouls  remotefl  part 
Conceal  a  thought  or  wifh  from  the  beloved  fair. 

Say,  what  a  pitch  thy  pleafures  fly 
When  friendfhip  all  fincere  grows  up  to  extafy, 
Nor  felf  contracts  the  blifs,  nor  vice  pollutes  the  joy. 

While  thy  dear  offspring  round  thee  lit, 
Or  fporting  innocently  at  thy  feet 
Thy  kindefl  thoughts  engage : 

Thofe  little  images  of  thee, 

What  pretty  toys  of  youth  they  be 
And  growing  props  of  age! 
III. 
But  fhort  is  earthly  blifs !  the  changing  wind 

Blows  from  the  fickly  fouth,  and  brings 
Malignant  fevers  on  its  fultry  wings, 

Reientlefs  death  fits  clofe  behind: 
Now  gafping  infants  and  a  wife  in  tears, 

With  piercing  groans  falutes  his  ears, 
Thro'  every  vein  the  thrilling  torments  roll; 

While  fweet  and  bitter  are  at  ftrife 

In  thofe  dear  miferies  of  life, 
Thofe  tendered  pieces  of  his  bleeding  foul. 

The  pleafing  fenfe  of  love  a  while 
Mixt  with  the  heart  ake  may  the  pain  beguile, 

And  make  a  feeble  fight; 
Till  forrows  like  a  gloomy  deluge  rife, 

Then  every  fmiling  paffion  dies, 

And  hope  alone  with  wakeful  eyes 
Darkling  and  folitary  waits  the  flow  returning  light. 

IV. 


228       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II, 

TV. 
Here  then  let  my  ambition  reft, 
May  I  be  moderately  bleft 
When  I  the  laws  of  love  obey ; 
Let  but  my  pleafure  and  my  pain 
In  equal  ballance  ever  reign, 
Or  mount  by  turns  and  fink  again, 
And  mare  juft  meafures  of  alternate  fway. 
So  Damon  lives,  and  ne'er  complains; 
Scarce  can  we  hope  diviner  fcenes 

On  this  dull  ftage  of  Clay: 
The  tribes  beneath  the  northern  Bear  . 
Submit  to  darknefs  half  the  year, 
Since  half  the  year  is  day. 


On  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Gloucefler, 
juft  after  Mr.  Dry  den.      1700. 

An     E  P.  I  G  R  A  M. 

DRYDEN  i's  dead,  DRYDEN  alone  could  fing 
The  full-grown  glories  of  a  future  king. 
Now  GLOS'TER  dies:  thus  letter  heroes  live 
By  that  immortal  breath  that  poets  give; 
And  fcarce  furvive  the  mufe:  but  William  Hands, 
Nor  afks  his  honours  from  the  poet's  hands. 
William  mall  mine  without  a  Dryden's  praife, 
His  laurels  are  not  grafted  on  the  bays. 


An 


Sacred  to  Virtue,  &c.      229 
An  Epigram  of  Martial  to  Cirinus* 

•£ic  tua,  Cirini,  promas  epigrammata  vulgo 
Vt  mecum  pojps,  &c. 

fnfcribed  to  Mr.    JOSIAH    H  Q  R  T,    1694. 
Now  Lord  Bifhop  of  Kilmore  in   Ireland. 

SO  fmooth  your  numbers,  friend,  your  verfe  To 
fweet, 
So  (harp  the  jeft,  and  yet  the  turn  £o  neat, 
7'hat  with  her  Martial  Rome  would  place  Cirine, 
Rome  would  prefer  your  fenfe  and  thought  to  mine. 
Yet  modeft  you  decline  the  publick  ftage, 
To  fix  your  friend  alone  amidlt  th'  applauding  age, 
So  Maro  did  ;   the  mighty  Maro  lings  ,"\ 

In  vaft  heroic  notes  of  vaft  heroic  things,  / 

And  leaves   the  ode  to  dance  upon  his  Flaccus  f 
firings.  J 

He  fcorn'd  to  daunt  the  d  ar  Horatian  lyre,  ~) 

Tho'  his  brave  genius  flafiVd  Pindaric  fire,  > 

And  at  his  will  could  filence  all  the  Lyric  quire.  J 
So  to  his  Varius  he  refign'd  the  praife 
Of  the  proud  bufkin  and  the  tragic  bays, 
When  he  could  thunder  with  a  loftier  vein, 
And  ling  of  Gods  and  heroes  in  a  bolder  ftrain. 

A  handfome  treat,  a  piece  of  gold  or  !b, 
And  compliments  will  every  fi  lend  bellow: 
Rarely  a  Virgil,  a  Cirine  we  meet. 
Who  lays  his  laurels  at  inferior  "feet, 
And  yields  the  tendered  point  of  honour. 


w; 


V  To 


230        LYRIC  POEMS,     Book II. 

To  Mrs.  SINGER.     (Now  Mrs.  ROWE.)  j 

On  the  Sight  offome  of  her  Divine  Poems 
Never  Printed, 

July  10,  1706. 

ON  the  fair  banks  of  gentle  Thames 
I   tun'd   my  harp;   nor  did  celeftial  themes 
Refufe  to  dance  upon  my  firings : 

There  beneath  the  evening  Iky 
I  fung  my  cares  afleep,  and  rais'd  my  wifhes  high 
To  everlafting  tilings. 
Sudden   from   Albion"s  weltern  coaft 
Harmonious  notes  come  gliding  by, 
The  neighbouring  fhepherds  knew  the  filver  found; 
«'  'Tis    PHILOMELA'S,    voice    the    neighb'ring 
fhepherds  cry; 
At  once  my  firings  all  filent  lie, 
At  once  my  fainting  mufe  was  loft, 
In  the  fuperior  fweetnefs  drown'd. 
In  vain   I  bid  my  tuneful  powers  nnite; 
My  foul  retir'd,  and  left  my  tongue, 
I  was  all  ear,  and  PHILOMELA'S  fong 
Was  all  divine  delight. 

II. 
Now  be  my  harp  for  ever  dumb, 
My  mufe  attempt  no  more.     'Twas  long  ago 
I   bid  adieu   to  mortal  things, 
To  Grecian  tales  and  wars  of  Rome, 
'Twas  long  ago  I  broke  all  but  th'  immortal  firings; 
Now  thofe  immortal  firings  have  no  employ, 

Since  a  fair  angel  dwells  below, 
To  tune  the  notes  of  heav'n,  and  propagate  the  joy, 

Let 


Sacred  to  Virtue,   &c.        231 

Let  all  my  powers  with  awe  profound 

While  PHILOMELA  fings, 
Attend  the  rapture  of  the  found, 
And  my  devotion  rife  on  her  feraphic  wings. 

To  His  Excellency 
JONATHAN  BELCHER,  Efq ;    In  LONDON- 

Appointed  by  his  Majesty  King  GEORGE  II. 

To  the  Government  of  NEW-ENGLAND, 

And  now  returning  Home. 

GO,  favourite  man;  fpread  to  the  wind  thy  fails; 
The  weftern  ocean  fmiles;  the  eaftern  gaLs 
Attend  thy  hour.     Ten  thoufand  vows  arife 
T'  enfure  for  thee  the  waves,  for  thee  the  Ikies, 
And  waft  thee  homeward.     On  thy  native  frrand 
Thy  nation  throngs  to  hale  thy  bark  to  land. 
She  fent  thee  envoy,  to  fecuie  her  laws 
And  her  lov'd  freedom.  Heaven  fucceds  the  caufe, 
And  makes  thee  ruler  there.     Thy  name  unites 
Thy  prince's  honours  and  thy  people's  rights. 

Twice  has  thy  zeal  been  to  thy  Sovereign  fhowrt 
In  German  realms,   while  yet  the  Britifh  throne 
Sigh'dfor  the houfe  of  Brunswick.  There  thy  knee 
Paid  its  firft  debt  to  future  Majesty, 
And  own'd  the  title,  e'er  the  crown  had  fhed 
Its  radiant  honours  round  the  royal  Father's  head. 
Long  has  thy  nation  lov'd  thee;    fage  in  youth, 
In  manhood  nobly  bold,  and  firm  to  truth  ; 
Shining  in  arts  of  peace;  yet  'midit  a  ttorm 
Skilful  t'  advife,  and  vigorous  to  perform  : 
Kind  to  the  world,  and  duteous  to  the  Ikies; 
Diftrefs  and  want  to  thee  direcl  their  eyes; 
Thy  life  a  publick  good.  What  heavn'ly  ray, 
What  courteous  fpirit  pointed  out  the  way, 

U  a  -  To 


232       LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  II. 

To  make  new-Albion  bleft,  when  George  the  j oft 
Gave  up  the  joyful  nation  to  thy  truft  ? 
Great  George  rewards  thy  zeal  in  happy  hour 
With  a  bright  beam  of  his  imperial  power. 

Go,   Belcher,  go:  aflume  thy  glorious  fway : 
Faction  expires,  and  Boston  longs  t'  obey.  .. 
Beneath  thy  rule  may  truth  and  vertue  fpread; 
Divine  religion  raife  aloft  hei  head, 
And  deal  their  hleffings  round.     Let  Tndia  hear 
That  JESUS  reigns,  and  her  wild  tribes  prepare 
For  heavenly  joys.  Thy  power  fhall  rule  by  lovej 
So  reigns  our  JESUS  in  his  realms  above. 
Illultrious  pattern  !   let  him  fix  thine  eye, 
And  guidethy  hand.   HE  from  the  worlds  on  high 
Came  once  an  Envoy,  and  return'd  a  Kin£ 
Thefonsof  iightin  throngstheir  homage  bri 
Whileglory,  life  and  joy  beneath  bis  fceptre : 

March  31,  1730. 

I.  WATTS. 


)   \J11l    UJglJ 

v      7 

rmgS       > 

fpring.  J 


The  End  of  the  Second  Book, 


H  0  R  IE 


H  0  R  JE     L  T  R  I  C  JE. 
BOOK    III. 

Sacred  to  the  Memory  of  the   Dead. 

An  Epitaph  on  King  William  III. 
Of  glorious  memory,  who  died  March  8th,  -1701, 

I. 

BENEATH  thefe  honours  of  a  tomb, 
Greatness  in  humble  ruin  lies; 
(How  earth  confines  in  narrow  room 
What  heroes  leave  beneath  the  ikies!) 

II. 
Preferve,   O  venerable  Pile, 
Inviolate,  thy  facred  truft;- 
To  thy  cold  arms  the  BRITISH  Ifle, 
Weeping,  commits  her  richeft  duft. 

III. 
Ye  gentleft  Minifters  of  Fate, 
Attend  the  monarch  as  he  lies, 
And  bid  the  fofteft  Slumbers  wait 
With  filken  cords  to  bind  his  eyes. 

U  3  IV. 


.234     LYRIC   POEMS,     Book  IIL 

IV. 
Reft  his  dear  Sword  beneath  his  head; 
Round  him   his  faithful  arms  fhall  ftandt 
Fix  his  bright  Ensigns  on  his  bed* 
The  euards  and  honour,  of  our  land. 

V. 
Ye  lifter  arts  of  Paint  and  Verse, 
Place  ALBION  fainting  by  his  fide, 
Her  groans  arifing  o'er  the  hearfe, 
And  BELGIA  finking  when  he  dy'd. 

VI. 
High  o'er  the  grave  Religion  fet 
In  folemn  gold;  pronounce  the  ground' 
Sacred,  to  bar  unhallow'd  feet, 
And  plant  her  guardian  Virtues  round. 

VII. 
Fair  Liberty  in  fables  dreft, 
Write  his  lov'd  name  upon  his  urn, 
WILLIAM,  the  fcoitrge  of  tyrants  pajl,. 
And  aive  of  princes  yet  unborn. 

VIM. 
Sweet  Pr.AC.E  his  facred  relicks  keep, 
With  olives  blooming  round  her  head, 
And  ftretch   her  wings  acrofs  the  deep 
To  blefs  the  nations  with  the  fhade. 

IX. 
Stand  on  the  pile,  immortal  Fame, 
Broad   ftars   adorn  thy  brighteft  robe, 
Thy  thoufand  voices  found  his  name 
In  filver  accents  round  the  globe. 

X. 
Flattery  fhall  faint  beneath  the  found, 
While  hoary  Truth  infpires  the   fong; 
Envy  grow  pale  and  bite  the  ground, 
And  Slander  gnaw  her  forky  tongue. 

XL 


To  the  Memory  of the  Dead.      23-5 

XI. 

Night  and  the  Grave  remove  your  gloom ; 
Darknefs  becomes  the  vulgar  dead; 
But  Glory  bids  the  royal  tomb 
Dilclain  the  horrors  of  a  made. 

Xll. 
Glory   with  all   her  lamps  (hall  burn. 
And  watch  the  warrior's  fleeping  clay, 
Till  the  lad:  trumpet  rouze  his  urn 
To  aid  the  triumphs  of  the  day. 

On  the  fudden  Death  of 
Mrs.     MARY     PEACOCK. 

An  Elegiac  Songfent  in  a  Letter  of  Con- 
dolence to  Mr.   N.    P.   Merchant  at 

Amfterdam* 

J. 

HARK!   me  bids  all  her  friends  adieu; 
Some  angel  calls  her  to  the  fpheres ; 
Our  eyes  the  radiant  faint  purfue 
Thro'   liquid  telefcopes  of  tears. 

II. 
Farewel,  bright  foul,  a  fhort  farewel, 
Till   we  (hall  meet  again   above 
In   the  fweet  gr  ves  where  pleafures  dwell3 
And  trees  of  life  bear  fruits  of  love. 

III. 
There  glory  fits  on  every  face, 
There  friendship  fmtles  in   every  eye, 
There  fhall  our  tongues  relate  the  grace 
That  led  us  homeward  to  the  iky. 

IV. 
O'er  all  the  names  of  Christ  our  king 
Shall  our  harmonious  voices  rove,  Our 


236      LYRIC  POEMS,     Book  III. 

Our  harps  fhall  found  from   every  firing 
The  wonders  of  his  bleeding  love. 

V. 
Come,  fovereign  Lord,  dear  Saviour,  come, 
Remove  thefe  feparating  days, 
Send  thy   bright  wheels  to  fetch  us  home; 
That  golden  hour,  how  long  it  ftays! 

VI. 
How  long   muft  we   lie  lingring  here, 
While  faints  around  us  take  their  flight? 
Smiling  they  quit  this  dulky  fphere. 
And  mount  the  hills  of  heavenly   light, 

VII. 
Sweet  foul,  we  leave  thee  to  thy  reft, 
Enjoy  thy  JESUS,  and  thy  God, 
Till   we,   from   bands  or  clay  releaft, 
Spring  out  and  climb  the  mining   road, 

VIII. 
While  the  dear  duft   fhe  leaves  behind 
Sleeps  in   thy  bofom,  facred  tomb! 
Soft   be  her  bed,   her   (lumbers  kind, 
And  all  her  dreams  of  joy  to  come. 

To  the  Reverend  Mr.    JOHN    SHOWER, 
on  the  Death  of  his  Daughter  Mrs.  Anne  Warner. 

Reverend  and  dear  Sir; 
TJ  J  W  great  foever  was  my  fenfe  of  your  !ofs>yet  I  did 
■°  not  think  my/elf fit  to  offer  any  lives  of  comfort :  you* 
own  meditations  can  furnijh  you  with  many  a  delg'tjul 
truth  in  the  nvdft  of  fo  heavy  aforrow;  for  the  covenant 
of  grace  has  brightness  enough  :n  it  to  gilt  the  moft  gloomy 
providence;  and  to  that  fv>eet  covenant  your  foul  is  no 
jlranger.  My  own  thoughts  were  much  imprejl  with  the 
tidings  of  your  daughter' i  death;  andtho'  1  made  many  a 
refie'ttion  on  the  vanity  of  mankind  in  its  bejt  ejtate,  yet  I 

mujt 


To  the  Memoty  of  the  Dead.      237 

vtujf  acknowledge  that  my  temper  leads  me  moft  to  the 
fleafani  fcenes  of  heaven,  and  that  future  -world  of  blef- 
fednefs.  When  Irecolletl  the  memory  of  my  friends  that 
are  dead,  I  frequently  rove  into  the  -world  offpirits,  and 
fearch  them  out  there:  thus  I  endeavoured  to  trace  Mrs.  . 
Werner;  and  thefe  thoughts  crouding  f aft  upon  me,  Ifet 
them  doivnfor  my  own  entertainment.  The  veife  breaks 
off  abruptly,  becaufe  I  had  no  dejlgn  to  -write  a  finijhed 
elegy;  and  befides,  -when  I  -was  fallen  upon  the  dark  fide 
of  death,  I  had-  no  mind  to  tarry  there.  If  the  lines  J  have 
-written  befo  happy  as  to  entertain  you  a  little,  and  divert 
your  grief ,  the  time fpent  in  compofing  them  Jhall  not  be 
reckoned  among  my  loft  hours,  and  the  review  will  bs 
more  p leafing  to,  Sir, 

Your  affectionate  humble  fervant, 
Decern.  %z,  1707.  J.  W. 

An  elegiac  Thought  on  Mrs.  dnne  Warner 
who  died  of  the  fmall-pox,  Decern.  18,  1707,  at  one 
of  the  clock  in  the  morning;  a  few  days  after  the  birib 
and  death  ofherfirft  child. 

A  Wake,  my  mufe,  range  the  wide  world  of  fouls, 
And  feek  VERNERA  fled;    with  upward  aim 
Direct  thy  wing;   for  me  was  born  from  heaven,  ' 
Fuifill'd  her  vifit,  and  return'd  en  high. 

The  midnight  watch  of  angels  that  patrole 
The  Britifh  fky,  have  notie'd  her  afcent 
Near  the  meridian  (tar;  purfue  the  track 
To  the  bright  confines  of  immortal  day 
And  paradife,  her  home.     Say,  my  Urania, 
(For  nothing  'fcapes  thy  fearch,  nor  canft  thou  mifs 
So  fair  a  fpirit)  fay,  beneath  what  fliade 
Of  Amarant,  or  chearful  Ever-green, 
She  fits,   recounting  to  her  kindred-minds 
Angelic  or  humane,  her  mortal  toil 

And 


238      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  III. 

And  travels  thro'  this  howling  wildernefs : 
By  what  divine  protections  (he  efcap'd 
Thofe  deadly  fnares  when  youth  and  Satan  leagu'd 
In  combination  to  afTail  her  virtue  ; 
(Snares  fet  to  murder  fouls)  but  heav'n  fecur'd 
The  favourite  nymph,  and  taught  her  victory. 
Or  does  (he  feek,  or  has  fhe  found  her  babe 
Amongft  the  infant- nation  of  the  bleft, 
And  clafp'd  it  to  her  foul,  to  fatiate  there 
The  young  maternal  paffion,  and  abfolve 
The  unfulfiiPd  embrace?  Thrice  happy  child! 
That  faw  the  light,  and  turn'd  its  eyes  afide 
From  our  dim  regions  to  th'  eternal  fun, 
And  led  the  parent's  way  to  glory !  There 
Thou  art  for  ever  hers,  with  powers  enlarg'd 
For  love  reciprocal  and  fweet  converfe. 

Behold  her  anceftors  (a  pious  race) 
Rang'd  in  fair  order,  at  her  fight  rejoice 
And  fing  her  welcome.     She  along  their  feats 
Gliding  falutes  them  all  with  honours  due, 
Such  as  are  paid  in  heaven  :   and  laft  the  finds 
A  manfion  fafhion'd  of  diftinguifh'd  light, 
But  vacant:   This  (with  fureprefage  (he  cries) 
Awaits  my  father;   -when  will  he  arrive  ? 
How  long,  alas,   how  long!  (TWen  calls  her  mate) 
Die,  thou  dear  partner  of  my  mortal  cares, 
Die,  and  partake  my  blifs;  we  are  for  ever  one. 

Ay  me!  where  roves  my  fancy!  what  kind  dreams 
Croud  with  fweet  violence  on  my  waking  mind! 
Perhaps  illufions  all!   Inform  me,   mufe, 
Chufes  fhe  rather  to  retire  apart 
To  recollect  her  diflipated  powers, 
And  call  her  thoughts  her  own  ;   fo  lately  freed 
From  earth's  vain  fcenes,  gay  vifits,  gratulations, 
From  Hymen's  hurrying  and  tumultuous  joys, 
And  fears,  and  pangs,  fierce  pangs  that  wro't  her 
death.  Tell 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead.      239 

Tell  me  on  what  fublimer  theme  fhe  dwells 
In  contemplation,  with  unerring  chie 
Infinite  truth  purfuing.     (When,  my  foul, 

0  when  mail  thy  releafe  from  cumb'rous  flefh 
Pafs  the  great  feal  of  heaven  ?  What  happy  hour 
Shall  give  thy  thoughts  a  loofe  to  foar  and  trace 
The  intellectual  world?  Divine  delight! 
VERNERA's  fov'd  employ!)  Perhaps  fhe  fings 
To  fome  new  golden  harp  th'  almighty  deeds, 
The  names,  the  honours  of  her  Saviour-God, 
His  crofs,  his  grave,  his  victory,  and  his  crown: 
Oh  could  I  imitate  th'  exalted  notes, 

And  mortal  ears  could  bear  them 

Or  lies  fhe  now  before  th'  eternal  throne 
Proftrate  in  humble  form,  with  deep  devotion 
O'erwhelm'd,  and  felf-abafement  at  the  fight 
Of  the  uncover'd  Godhead  face  to  face? 
Seraphic  crowns  pay  homage  at  his  feet, 
And  hers  amongft  them,  not  of  dimmer  ore, 
Nor  fet  with  meaner  gems  :  but  vain  ambition, 
And  emulation  vain,  and  fond  conceit, 
And  pride  for  everbaniih'd  flies  the  place, 
Curfr.  pride,  the  drefs  of  hell.     Tell  me,  Urania, 
How  her  joys  heighten,  and  her  golden  hours 
Circle  in  love.     O  flamp  upon  my  foul 
Some  blifsful  image  of  the  fair  deceas'd, 
To  call  my  pafTions  and  my  eyes  afide 
From  the  dear  breathlefs  clay,  diflreffing  fight! 

1  look  and  mourn  and  gaze  with  greedy  view 
Of  melancholy  fondnefs;   tears  bedewing 
That  form  fo  late  defir'd,  fo  late  belov'd, 
Now  loathfo,ne  and  unlovely."    Bafe  difeafe, 

That  leagu'd  with  nature's  fharpeft  pains,  and  fpoil'd 
So  fweet  a  ftru&ure!  The  impoifoning  taint 
O'erfpreads  the  building  wrought  with  fkill  divine, 
And  ruins  the  rich  temple  to  the  dull! 

Was 


24©     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  III. 

Was    this    the   countenance,  where  the    world 
admir'd 
Features  of  wit  and  virtue?  this  the  face 
Where  iovetriumph'd?  and  beauty  onthefe  cheeks, 
As  on  a  throne,  beneath  her  radiant  eyes 
Was  feated  to  advantage;  mild,   ferene, 
Refleding  rofy  light?   fo  fits  the  fun 
(i-air  eye  of  heaven!)  upon  a  crimion  cloud 
Near  the  horizon,  and  with  gentle  ray 
Smiles  lovely  round  the  fky,   till  rifing  fogs, 
Bortending  night,  with  fori  and  heavy  wing 
jnvolve  the  golden  (tar,  and  fink  him  down 
OPprefl  with  darknefs. 

On  the  Death  of  an  Aged  and  Honoured 
Relative ,  Mrs.  M.  IV.  July  13,  1693. 

I  Know  the  kindred  mind.     'Tis  fhe,  'tis  fhe; 
Among  the  heav'nly  forms  I  fee 
The  kindred- mind  from  flcfhly  bondage  free  ; 
O  how  "unlike  the  thing  was  lately  feen 
Groaning  and  panting  on  the  bed, 
With  ghaftly  air.   and  languifh'd  head, 
Life  on  this  fide  there  the  dead, 
While  the  delaying  ftefh    lay  fhivering  between! 
II. 
Long  did  the  earthly  houfe  reftrain    ., 
In   toillbme  flavery  that  ethereal   gut  ft; 
Prifon'd  her  round  in   walls  of  pain, 
And  twifted  cramps  and  arches  with  her  chain; 
Till  by  the  weight  of  numerous  days  oppreft 

The  earthly  houfe  began  ro  reel, 
The  pillars  trembled,  and  the  building  fell; 
The  captive  foul  became  her  own  again  . 

Tir'J 


To  ihe  Memory  of  the  Dead.     241 

Tir'd  with  the  forrows  and  the  cares, 

A  tedious  train  of  fourfcore  years, 

The  pris'ner  fmil'd  to  be  releaft, 
She  felt  her  fetters  loofe,  and  mounted  to  her  reft, 

III. 
Gaze  on,  my  foul,  and  let  a  perfect  view 

Paint  her  idea  all  anew; 
Rafe  out  thofe  melancholy  Ihapes  of  woe 
That  hang  around  thy  memory,  and  becloud  it  fo. 
Come  Fancy,  come,  with  efTences  refin'd, 

With  youthful  green,  and  fpotlefs  white; 
Deep  be  the  tincture,  and  the   colours  bright 
T'  exprefs  the  beauties  of  a  naked  mind. 

Provide  no  glooms  to  form  a  (hade; 
All  things  above  of  vary'd  light  are  made, 
Nor  can  the  heav'nly  piece  require  a  mortal  aid. 

But  if  the  features  too  divine 

Beyond  the  power  of  fancy  mine, 
Conceal  th'  inimitable  ftrokes  behind  a  graceful  fhrine 
IV. 

Defcribe  the  faint  from  head  to  feet, 
Make  ail  the  lines  in  jufl  proportion  meet; 
But  let  her  pofture  be 

Filling  a  chair  of  high  degree; 
Obferve  how  near  it  ftands  to  the  almighty  feat. 

Paint  the  new  graces  of  her  eyes; 
Frefh  in  her  looks  let  fprightly  youth  arife, 

And  joys  unknown  below  the  flues. 

Virtue  that  lives  conceal'd  below, 
And  to  the  breaft  confin'd, 

Sits  here  triumphant  on  the  brow, 

And  breaks  with  radiant  glories  through 
The  features  of  the  mind. 
Exprefs  her  pafllon  flill  the  fame, 
But  more  divinely  fweet ; 

X  Love 


24*     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  III. 

Love  has  an  everlafting  flame, 
And  makes  the  work  complete. 
V. 

The  painter  mufe  with  glancing  ey$ 

Obferv'd  a  manly  fpirit  nigh  * 
That  death  had  long  disjoin 'd : 

"  In  the  fair  tablet  they  fhall  ftand 

"  United  by  a  happier  band  : 
She  faid,  and  fix'd  her  fight,  and  drew  the   manly 

mind. 
Recount  the  years,  my  fong,  (a  mournful  round!) 

Since  he  was  fee**  on  earth  no  more: 
He  fought  in  lower  feas  and  drown'dj 

But  victory  and  peace  he  found 
On  the  fuperior  more. 
There  now  his  tuneful  breath  in  facred  fongs 
Employs  th'  European  and  the  eaftern  tongues. 

Let  th'  awful  truncheon  and  the  flute, 

The  pencil  and  the  well  known  lute, 

Powerful  numbers,  charming  wit, 

And  every  art  and  fcience  meet, 
And  bring  their  laurels  to  his  hand,  or  lay  them  at 
his  feet.  VI. 

Tis  done.     What  beams  of  glory  fall 

(Rich  varnifh  of  immortal  art) 

To  gild  the  bright  original! 
'Tis  done.     The  mufe  has  now  perform'd  her  part. 
Bring  down  the  piece,  Urania,  from  above, 

And  let  my  Honour  and  my  Love 
Drefs  it  with  chains  of  gold  to  hang  upon  my  heart. 

*  My  Grandfather  Mr.  Thomas  Watts  had  fuch  ac- 
quaintance uuith  the  mathematickSy  painting,  mu/ick,  and 
poefy,  &c.  as  gave  him  confxderable  eft eem  among  his 
con-temporaries.  He  was  commander  of  a  Jhip  of  war, 
1656,  and  by  blowing  up  of  the  Jhip  in  the  Dutch  war, 
he  was  drowned,  in  his  youth. 


To  the  Memory  of  theDEAn.      243 


A  FUNERAL  POEM  on  the  Death  of  Thomas 
Gunston,  Efq;  prefented  to  the  Right  Honour- 
able the  Lady  Abney,  Lady  Mayorefs  of  London. 

Madam,  July,  1 701. 

TJAD  I  been  a  common  mourner  at  the  funeral  of  the 
■*  ■  dear  Gentleman  deceafed,  JJhould  have  laboured  af- 
ter more  of  art  in  the  following  compofition,  to  fupplytht 
defecl  of  nature,  and  to  feign  aforrow  ;  but  the  uncom- 
mon condefcenfion  of  his  friendfinp  to  me,  the  inward  ef> 
teem  I  pay  his  memory,  and  the  vaft  and  tender  fenfe  I 
have  of  the  lofs,  make  all  the  methods  of  art  needlefst 
■whilft  natural  grief fupp lies  more  than  all. 

I hadrefolved  indeed  to  lament  in  fighs  andflence,  and 
frequently  checked  the  too  far-war d  muj'e;  but  the  impor- 
tunity was  not  to  be  reffted;  long  lines  of  for  row  flowed 
in  upon  me  ere  1  was  aware,  whilft  I  took  many  a  J'oli- 
tary  walk  in  the  garden  adjoining  to  his  feat  at  Newing- 
ton;  nor  could  I  free  myfe If  from  the  crowd  of melan~ 
choly  ideas.  Your  Ladyfinp  will  find  throughout  the  poem 
that  the  fair  and  unfir.iped  building  which  he  had  juft  rai- 
fed  for  himfelf,  gave  almoft  all  the  turns  of  mourning  to 
my  thoughts ;  for  I purfue  no  other  topics  of  elegy  than 
iv hat  my  paffwn  and  my  fenfe s  led  me  to. 

The  poem  roves,  as  my  eyes  and  grief  did,  from  one 
fart  ofthefabrick  to  the  other-:  it  rifes  from  the  founda- 
tion, falutes  the  -walls,  the  doors',  and  the  -windows,  drops 
a  tear  upon  the  roof,  and  climbs  the  turret,  that  pleafant 
retreat,  where  I  promifed  myfelf  many  fweet  hours  of  his 
converfation;  there  my  fongivand&rs  amongft  the  delight' 
ful  fubjetls  divine  and  moral,  which  ufed  to  entertain  our 
happy  leifure/  and  thence  defends  to  the  fields  and  the 
Jhady  walks  where  Ifo  often  enjoyed  hispleafing  difcourfe; 
my  farrows  diffufe  themfelves  there  without  a  limit:  I 
had  quite  for g$tt  en  all  fcheme  and  method  of -writing,  till 
X  a  IcorreB 


244      LTRIC    POEMS,     Book  III. 

J  corretl  my/elf,  and  rife  to  the  turret  again  to  lament 
that  deflate  feat.  Now  if  the  critics  laugh  at  the  folly 
of  the  mufe  for  taking  too  much  notice  of  tiie  golden  bally 
let  them  confidcr  that  the  meaneft  thing  that  belonged  to 
fo  valuable  a  perfon  fill  gave  fome  frefo  and  doleful  re- 
fletlions:  and  1  tranfcribe  nature  -without  rule,  and  re" 
■prefent  friend ffip  in  a  mourning  drefs,  abandoned  to  deep" 
eft  forrow,  and  •with  a  negligence  becoming  -woe  unfeignd. 

Had  I  defigned  a  complete  elegy,  Madam,  on  your 
dear  eft  brother,  and  intended  it  for  publick  view,  IJhouli 
have  followed  the  ufual  forms  of  poetry,  fu  far  at  leaft, 
ms  tofpendfcme  pages  in  the  character  and  fra'fes  of  the 
dtceafed,  and  thence  have  taken  occafion  to  call  mankind 
to  complain  aloud  of  the  itniverfal  and  unfpeable  I '  fs :  tut 
J  wrote  merely  for  myfelf  as  a  friend  of  the  dead,  and  to 
eafe  my  full  foul  by  breathing  out  my  own  complaints;  I 
knew  his  character  and  vertues  fo  -well,  that  there  -was 
no  need  to  mention  them  while  1  talked  only  -with  mftelf; 
for  the  ima^e  of  them  -was  ever  prefent  -with  me,  ii  hick 
kept  the  pain  at  the  heart  intenfe  ana  lively,  and  my  tears 
flowing  ivith  my  verfe. 

Perhaps  your  Ladyjhip  will  cxpctlfome  divine  thoughts 
and  ficred  meditati  ns,  rningled  with  a  futjetr fo  fotemn 
as  this  is :  had  I  formed  a  deftgu  of  offering  it  to  your 
hands,  I  had  compofed  a  more  chriftion  poJm;  but  it  -was 
grief  purely  natural  for  a  death  fo  furprizingy  that  drew 
.alltheftrokcs  of  it,  and  therefore  my  reflexions  are  chiefly 
of  a  moral  ftrain.  Such  as  it  is,  your  Lady/hip  requires 
a  ccpy  of  it ;  but  let  it  not  touch  your  foul  too  tenderly  nor 
renew  your  own  mournings.  Receive  it,  Madam,  as  an 
offering  of  love  ana  tears  at  the  tomb  of  a  departed  friend 
and  let  it  abide  with  you  as  a  witneft  of  that  affectionate 
refpeel  and  honour  that  I  bore  him;  all  which,  as  your 
Ladyjhip's  moft  rightful  due,  both  by  merit  and fucceffwiy 
is  now  humbly  offered,  by.   Madam, 

Your  Ladypip's  moft  hearty  and  obedient  fervant, 

I.    WATTS, 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead.      245; 

To  the  dear  Memory  of  my  Honoured  Friend, 
THOMAS  GUNSTON,  Efq;  who  died  Novem- 
ber 11,  1700,  when  he  had  juft  flnifhed  his  feat 
at  Newington. 

OF  blafted  hopes,  and  of  fhort  withering  joys, 
Sing,  heavenly  mufe.  Try  thine  ethereal  voice; 
.  In  funeral  numbers  and  a  doleful  fong; 
GUNSTON  the  juft,  the  generous,  and  the  young, 
GUNSTON  the  friend  is  dead.     O  empty  name 
Of  earthly  blifs!   'tis  all  an  airy  dream, 
Alia  vain  thought!  Our  foaring  fancies  rife 
On  treacherous  wings!  and  hopes  that  touch  the. 

fkies 
Prag  but  a  longer  ruin  thro'  the  downward  air, 
And  plunge  the  falling  joy  ftill  deeper  in  defpair. 

How  did  our  fouls  ftand  flatter'd  and  prepar'd 
To  fhout  him  welcome  to  the  feat  he  rear'd! 
There  the  dear  man  fhould  fee  his  hopes  complete, 
Smiling,  and  tailing  every  lawful  fweet 
That  peace  and  plenty  brings,  while  numerous  years- 
Circling  delightful  play'd  around  the  fpheres: 
Revolving  funs  fhould  (till  renew  his  ftrength, 
And  draw  t'h'  uncommon  thread  to  an  unfual  length. 
But  hafty  fate  thrufts  her  dread  (hears  between, 
Cuts  the  young  life  off,  and  fhuts  up  the  fcene. 
Thus  airy  Plea&ure  dances  in  our  eyes, 
And  fpreads  falfe  images  in  fair  difguife, 
T'  allude  our  fouls,  till  juft  within  our  arms 
The  vifion  dies,  and  all  the  painted  charms 
Flee  quick- away  from  the  purfuing  fight, 
Till  they  are  loft  in  fhades,  and  mingle  with  the 
night. 
Mufe,  ftretch  thy  wings  and  thy  fad  journey  bend 
To  the  fair  Fabrick  that  thy  dying  friend 

X3.  Built 


446      LYRIC  POEMS,    Booklll. 

Built  namelefs:  'twill  fugged  a  thoufand  things 
Mournful  and  foft  as  my  Urania  fings. 

How  did  he  lay  the  deep  foundations  drong, 
Marking  the  hounds,  and  lear  the  walls  along, 
Solid  and  lading;   there  a  numerous  train 
Of  happy  GUNSTON3,  might  in  pleafure  reign. 
While  nations  perilh,  and  long  ages  run, 
Nations  unborn,  and  ages  unbegun  : 
Not  time  itfelf  Ihould  wade  the"bled  edate, 
Nor  the  tenth  race  rebuild  the  ancient  feat. 
How  fond  cur  fancies  are!  the  founder  dies  5 

Childlefs;   his  fiders  weep  and  clofe  his  eyes,  > 

And  wait  upon  his  hearfewith  never  ceafing  cries.  J 
Lofty  and  flow  it  moves  to  meet  the  tomb, 
While  weighty  forrow  nods  on  every  plume; 
A  thoufand  groans  his  dear  remains  convey  *> 

To  his  cold  lodging  in  a  bed  of  clay,  > 

His  country's  facred  tears  well  watering  all  the  way.  J 
See  the  dull  wheels  roll  on  the  fable  road: 
But  no  dearfon  to  tread  the  mournful  load, 
And  fondly  kind  drop  his  young  forrows  there, 
The  father's  urn  bedewing  with  a  filial  tear. 
O  had  he  left  us  one  behind,  to  play 
Wanton  about  the  painted  hall,  and  fay, 
This  -was  my  father's,  with  impatient  joy 
In  my  fond  arms  I'd  clafp   the  fmiling  boy, 
And  call  him  my  young  friend:  but  awful  fate, 
Defign'd  the  mighty  droke  as  lading  as  'twas  gpcat. 

And  mud  this  building  then,  thiscodly  frame 
Stand  here  for  drangers  ?  mud  fome  unknown  name 
P  ;{Tefs  thefe  rooms,  the  labours  of  my  friend  ? 
Why  w.cre  thefe  walls  rais'd  for  this  haplefs  end  ? 
Why  thefe  apartments  all  adorn'd  fo  gay? 
Why  his  rich  fancy  laviih'd  thus  away  ? 
Mufe,  view  the  paintings,  how  the  hovering  light 
Plays  o'er  the  colours  in  a  wanton  flight, 

And 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead.      247 

And  mingled  (hades  wrought  in  by  foft  degrees, 
Give  a  fweet  foil  to  all  the  charming  piece; 
But  night,  eternal  night,  hangs  black  around 
The  difmal  chambers  of  the  hollow  ground, 
And  folid  fhades  unmingled  round  his  bed 
Stand  hideous;  earthly  fogs  embrace  his  head, 
And  noifome  vapours  glide  along  his  face 
Riling  perpetual.     Mule,  forfake  the  place, 
Flee  the  raw  damps  of  the  unwholefome  clay 
Look  to  his  airy  fpacious  hall,  and  fay, 
"  How  has  he  chang'd  it  for  a  loathiome  cave, 
"  Confin'd  and  crowded  in  a  narrow  grave  ! 

Th'  unhappy  houfe  looks  defoiate  and  -mourns. 
And  every  door  groans  doleful  as  it  turns; 
The  pillars  languifh;   and  each  lofty  wail 
Stately  in  grief,  laments  the  mailer's  fall.. 
In  drops  of  briny  dew,   the  fabrick  bears 
His  faint  refemblance,   and  renews  my  tears. 
Solid  and  fqnare  it  riles  from  below; 
A  nobje  air  without. a  gaudy  ihow 
Reigns  thro'  the  model,  and  adorns  the  whole, 
Manly  and  plain.      Such  was  the  builder's  fouL 

O  how  I  love  to  view  the  (lately  frame, 
That  dear  memorial  of  the  bed  lov'd  namel 
Then  could  I  wifh  forlbme  prodigious  cave 
Vaffas  his  feat,  and  fiient  as  hisgtave 
Where  the  tall  fhades  ftretch  to  the  hideous  roof, 
Forbid  the  day,  arid  guard  the  fun  beams  off; 
Thither,   my  willing  feet,   fhonld  ye  be  drawn 
At  the  grey  twilight,  and  the  eariy  dawn  : 
There  fweetly  fad  fhou!d  my  foft  minures  roll, 
Numbringthe  forrows  of  my  drooping  foul. 
But  tliefe  are  airy  thoughts!  fubttantial  grief 
Grows  by  thofe  objects  that  ihould  yield  relief; 
Fond  of  my  woes  1  heave  my  eyes  around, 
My  grief  from  every  profpeft  courts  a  wound  ; 

Views 


248     LYRIC  POE  MS,    Book  III. 

Views  the  green  gardens,  views  the  fmiling  flues, 
Still  my  heart  finks,  and  ft  ill  my  cares  arife; 
My  wand'ring  feet  round  the  fair  manfion  rove, 
And  there  to  fboth  my  forrows  I  indulge  my  love, 

Oft  have  I  laid  the  awful  Calvin  by, 
And  the  fweet  Cowley,   with  impatient  eye 
To  fee  thofe  walls,  pay  the  fad  vifit  there, 
And  drop  the  tribute  of  an  hourly  tear: 
Still  I  behold  fome  melancholy  fcene, 
With  many  a  penfive  thought,  and  many  a  figk 

between.. 
Two  days  ago  we  took  the  evening  air, 
I,  and  my  grief,  and  my  Urania  there; 
Say,  my  Urania,  how  the  weftern  fun 
Broke  from  black  clouds,  and  in  full  glory  fhone 
Gilding  the  roof,  then  dropt  into  the  fea, 
Andfudden  night  devour'd  the  fweet  remains  of  day ;: 
Thus  the  bright  youth  juft  rear'd  his  (hining  head 
From  obfeure  (hades  of  life,  and  funk  among  the 

dead. 
The  riGng  fun  adorn'd  with  all  his  light 
Smiles  on  thefe  walls  again  :   but  endlefs  night 
Reigns  uncontroul'd  where  the  dear  Gunston  lies, 
He's  fet  for  ever,  and  muit  never  rife. 
Then  why  thefc  beams,  unfeafonablc  ftar, 
Thefe  lightfome  fmiles  defcending  from  afar, 
To  greet  a  mourning  houfe  ?   In  vain  the  day 
Breaks  thro*  the  windows  with  a  joyful  ray, 
And  marks  a  mining  path  along  the  floors, 
Bounding  the  evening  and  the  morning  hours; 
In  vain  it  bounds  em  :   while  vaft  emptintfs        "S 
And  hollow  filence  reigns  thro'  all  the  place,    > 
Nor  heeds  the  chearful  change  of  nature's  face.  J 
Yet  nature's  wheels  will  on  without  controul,       ") 
The  fun  will  rife,  the  tuneful  fphcres  will  roll,    r 
And  the  two  nightly  Bears  walk  round  and  watch  C 
the  pole.  J 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead.      249 

See  while  I  /peak,  high  on  her  fable  wheel 
Old  night  advancing  climbs  the  eaftern  hill : 
Troops  of  dark  clouds  prepare  her  way;   behold, 
How  their  brown  pinions  edg'd  with  evening  gold 
Spread  fhadowing  o'er  the  houfe,  and  glide  away 
Slowly  purfuing  the  declining  day; 
O'er  the  broad  Roof  they  fly  their  circuit  flail, 
Thus  days  before  they  did,  and  days  to  come  they, 

will; 
But  the  black  cloud  that  fhadows  o'er  his  eyes. 
Hangs  there  unmovable,  and  never  flies; 
Fain  would  I  bid  the  envious  gloom  be  gone;  3 
Ah  fruitlefs  wifh!  how  are  his  curtains  drawn  > 
For  a  long  evening  that  defpairs  the  dawn!      j 

Mufe,  view  the  Turret;  juft  beneath  the  fkies 
Lonefome  it  ftands,  and  fixes  my  fad  eyes, 
As  it  would  afk  a  tear.     O  facred  feat, 
Sacred  to  friendfhip!  O  divine  retreat! 
Here  did  I  hope  my  happy  hours  t'  employ, 
And  fed  beforehand  on  the  promis'd  joy, 
Wnen  weary  of  the  noify  town,  my  friend 
From  mortal  cares  retiring,   fhould  afcend 
And  lead  me  thither.     We  alone  wou'd  fit 
Free  and  fecure  of  all  intruding  feet  : 
Our  thoughts  fhould  ftretch  their  longed  wings,  and 

rife, 
Nor  bound  their  foarings  by  their  lower  fkies: 
Our  tongues  fhou'd  aim  at  everlafting  themes, 
And  fpeak  what  mortals  dare,  of  all  the  names 
Of  boundlefs  joys  and  glories,  thrones,  and  feats 
Built  high  in  heaven  for  fouls:   we'd  trace  the  flreets 
Of  golden  pavement,   walk  each  blifsful  field, 
And  climb  and  tafte  the  fruits  the  fpicy  mountains 

yield  : 
Then  would  we  fwear  to  keep  the  facred  road, 
And  walk  right  upwards  to  that  bleft  abode; 

We'd 


250     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  III. 


I 


We'd  charge  our  parting  fpirits  there  to  meet 
There  hand  in  hand  approach  th'*al  mighty  feat 
And  bend  our  heads  adoring  at  our  maker's  feet 
Thus  fhould  we  mount  on  bold  advent'rous  wings 
In  high  difcourfe,  and  dwell  on  heavenly  things, 
While  the  pleas'd  hours  in  fweet  fucceflion  move, 
And  minutes  meafur'd,  as  they  are  above, 
By  ever  circling  joys,  and  every  mining  love. 

Anon  our  thoughts  fhou'd  lower  their  lofty  flight, 
Sink  by  degrees,  and  take  a  pleafing  fight, 
A  large  round  profped!  of  the  fpreading  plain, 
The  wealthy  river,  and  his  winding  train, 
The  fmoaky  city,  and  the  b'ufy  men. 
How  we  mould  fmile  to  fee  degenerate  worms 
Lavifh  their  lives,  and  fight  for  airy  forms 
Of  painted  honour,   dreams  of  empty  found, 
Till  envy  rife,  andfhoot  a  fecret  wound 
At  fwelling  glory,  ftrait  the  bubble  breaks, 
And  the  fcenes  vanifh,  as  the  man  awakes: 
Then  the  tall  titles  infolent  and  proud 
Sink  to  the  duft  and  mingle  with  the  crowd. 

Man  is  a  reftlefs  thing:   ft  ill  vain  and  wild, 
Uves  beyond  fixty,  nor  outgrows  the  child  : 
His  hurrying  lufts  ftili  break  the  facred  bound 
To  feek  new  pleafures  on  forbidden  ground, 
And  buy  them  all  too  dear.     Unthinking  fool, 
For  a  fhort  dying  joy  to  ieil  a  deathkfs  foulL 
'Tis  but  a  grain  of  fweetnefs  they  can  fow, 
And  reap  the  long  fad  harveft  of  immortal  woe 

Another  tribe  toil  in  a  different  ftrife,    - 
And  banimall  the  lawful  fweets  of  life, 
To  fweat  and  dig  for  gold,  to  hoard  the  oar, 
Hide  the  dear  duft  yet  darker  than  before, 
And  never  dare  to  ufe  a  grain  of  all  the  ftore. 

Happy  the  man  that  knows  the  value  juft 
Of  earthly  things,  nor  is  enflav'd  to  duft. 

'Tis 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead.      251 


I 


'Tis  a  rich  gift  the  fkies  but  rarely  fend 
To  fav'rite  fouls.  Then  happy  thou,  my  friend, 
Por  thou  haft  learnt  to  manage  and  command 
The  wealth  that  heaven  beilow'd  with  liberal  hand: 
Hence  this  fair  ftru£ture  rofe;  and  hence  this  feat 
Made  to  invite  my  not  unwilling  feet; 
.In  vain  'twas  made!  for  we  mall  never  meet, 
And  fmile,  and  love,  and  blefs  each  other  here, 
The  envious  tomb  forbids  thy  face  t'  appear, 
Detains  thee,  GUNSTON,  from  my  longing  eyes, 
And  all  my  hopes  lie  bury'd,  where  my  GU  NSTON 
lies. 

Come  hither,  all  ye  tendered  fouls,  that  know 
The  heights  of  fondnefs,  and  the  depths  of  woe, 
Young  mothers,  who  your  darling  babes  have  found 
Untimely  murder'd  with  a  ghaftly  wound ; 
Ye  frighted  nymphs,   who  on  the  bridal  bed 
Clafp'd  in  your  arms  your  lovers  cold  and  dead, 
Come;  in  the  pon:p  of  all  your  wild  defpair, 
With  flowing  eye-lids,  and  diforder'd  hair, 
Death  in  your  looks  :  come,  mingle  grief  with  me, 
And  drown  your  little  ftreams  in  my  unbounded  fea, 

You  facred  mourners  of  a  nobler  mould, 
Born  for  a  friend,  whofe  dear  embraces  hold 
.Beyond  all  nature's  ties;  you  that  have  known 
Two  happy  fouls  made  intimately  one, 
And  felt  a  parting  ltroke:   'tis  you  muft  tell 
The  fmart,  the  twinges,  and  the  racks  I  feel : 
This  foul  of  mine  that  dreadful  wound  has  borne 
Off  from  its  fide  its  dcareft  half  is  torn, 
The  reft  lies  bleeding,  and  but  lives  to  mourn 
Oh  infinite  diftrefs!   fuch  raging  grief 
Should  command  pity,  and  defpair  relief. 
Paffion,  methinks,  mould  rife  from  all  my  groans, 
Give  fenfe  to  rocks,  and  fympathy  to  ftones. 

Ye 


rneO 

1.  5 


352      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  III, 

Ye  dufky  Woods  and  ecchoing  Hills  around, 
Repeat  my  cries  with  a  perpetual  found  ; 
Be  all  ye  tfow'ry  Vales  with  thorns  o'ergrown, 
Affift  my  forrows,  and  declare  your  own ; 
Alas!  Your  Lord  is  dead.     The  humble  plain 
Mud  ne'er  receive  his  courteous  feet  again  :    . 
Mourn  ye  gay  fmiling  meadows,  and  he  feen 
In  wintry  robes,  inflead  of  youthful  green; 
And  bidthe  Brook,  that  ftill  runs  warbling  by, 
Move  filent  on,  and  weep  his  ufelefs  channel  dry. 
Hither  methinks  the  lowing  herd  fhould  come, 
And  moaning  turtles  murmur  o'er  his  tomb  : 
The  oak  (hall  wither,  and  the  curling  vine  -\ 

Weep  his  young  life  out,  while  his  arms  untwine  / 
Their  amorous  folds,  and  mix  his  bleeding  foul  r 
with  mine.  _) 

Ye  ftately  elms,  in  your  long  order  mourn,* 
Strip  off  yon  r  pride  to  drefs  your  matter's  urn  : 
Here  gently  drop  your  leaves,  inflead  of  tears; 
Ye  elms,  the  reverend  growth  of  ancient  years,* 
Stand  tall  and  naked  to  the  bluftering  rage 
Of  the  mad  winds;   thus  it  becomes  your  age 
To  (hew  your  forrows.     Often  ye  have  feen 
Our  heails  reclin'd  upon  the  rifing  green; 
Beneath  your  facred  (hade  dirlus'd  we  lay, 
Here  Friends mr  reign'd  with  an  unbounded  fway; 
Hither  our  fouls  their  conflant  offerings  brought, 
The  burthens  of  the  bread,  and  labours  of  the  tho't; 
Our  opening  bofoms  on  the  confeious  ground 
Spread  all  the  forrows  and  the  joys  we  found, 
And  mingled  every  care;   nor  was  it  known 
Which  of  the  pains  and  pleafures  were  our  own  ; 

Then 


*  There  -was  a  long  row  ef  tall  elms  then  /landing 
"where  fome  years  after  the  loiver  garden  ivas  made. 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead.     253 

Then  with  an  equal  hand  and  honeft  foul  *\ 

We  fhare  the  heap,  yet  both  poffefs  the  whole,    / 
And  all  the  paffions  there  thro'  both  our  bofbms  r 

roll.  J 

By  turns  we  comfort,  and  by  turns  complain, 
And  bear  and  eafe  by  turns  the  fympathy  of  pain. 
Friendflaip !  myfterious  thing,  what  magic  pow'rs 
Support  thy  fway,  and  charm  thefe  minds  of  ours? 
Bound  to  thy  foot  we  boaft  our  birth-right  ftill, 
And  dream  of  freedom,  when  we've  loft  our  will, 
And  chang'd  away  our  fouls;  at  thy  command 
We  fnatch  new  miferies  from  a  foreign  hand, 
To  call  them  ours ;  and,  thoughtlefs  of  our  eafe, 
Plague  the  dear  feif  that  we  were  born  to  pleafe. 
Thou  tyrannefs  of  minds,  whofe  cruel  throne 
Heaps  on  poor  mortals  forrows  not  their  own; 
As  tho'  our  mother  nature  could  no  more  "N 

Find  woes  fufficient  for  each  fon  (he  bore,  / 

Friendship  divides  the  fhares,  and  lengthens  out  r 

the  ftore.  J 

Yet  are  we  fond  of  thine  imperious  reign,  -\ 

Proud  of  the  flavery,  wanton  in  our  pain,  / 

And  chide  the  courteous  hand  when  death  dif-T 

folves  the  chain.  3 

Virtue,  forgive  the  thought!  the  raving  mufe 
Wild  and  defpairing  knows  not  what  fhe  does, 
Grows  mad  in  grief,  and  in  her  favage  hours 
Affronts  the  name  fne  loves  and  fhe  adores. 
She  is  thy  vot'refs  too  ;  and  at  thy  fhrine,  "} 

O  facred  Friendship,  offer'd  fongs  divine,  / 

While  GUNSTON  lrv'd,  and  both  our  fouls  were  f 

thine.  3 

Here  to  thefe  fhades  at  fo'emn  hours  we  came, 
To  pay  devotion  with  a  mutual  flame, 
Partners  in  blifs.     Sweet  luxury  of  the  mind! 
And  fweet  the  aids  of  fenfe!  Each  ruder  wind 

Y  Slept 


254     LYRIC  POEMS,     Book  III. 

Slept  in  its  caverns,  while  an  evening  breeze 
Fan'd  the  leaves  gently,  fporting  thro'  the  trees : 
The  linnet  and  the  lark  there  vefpers  fung, 
And  clouds  of  crimfon,  o'er  th'  horizon  hung; 
The  flow  declining  fun  with  floping  wheels 
Sunk  down  the  golden  day  behind  the  weftern  hills. 

Mourn,  ye  young  gardens,  ye  unfiniftYd  gates, 
Ye  green  inciofures,  and  ye  growing  fweets 
Lament,  for  ye  our  midnight  hours  have  known, 
And  watch'd  us  walking  by  the  filent  moon 
In  conference  divine,   while  heavenly  fire 
Kindling  our  breafts  did  all  our  thoughts  infpire 
With  joys  almoft  immortal  ?  then  our  zeal 
Blaz'd  and  burnt  high  to  reach  th'  ethereal  hill 
And  love  refin'd,  like  that  above  the  poles, 
Threw  both  our  arms  round  one  another's  fouls 
In  rapture  and  embraces.     Oh  forbear, 
Forbear,  my  fong!  this  is  too  much  to  hear, 
Too  dreadful  to  repeat ;  fuch  joys  as  thefe 
Fled  from  the  earth  for  ever! 

Oh  for  a  general  grief!   let  all  things  fhare 
Our  woes,  that  knew  our  loves :  the  neighbouring  air 
Let  it  be  laden  with  immortal  fighs, 
And  tell  the  gales,  that  every  breath  that  flies 
Over  thefe  fields  fhould  murmur  and  complain, 
And  kifs  the  fading  grafs,  and  propagate  the  pain. 
Weep  all  ye  buildings,  and  ye  groves  around 
For-ever  weep  :   this  is  an  endlcfs  wound, 
Vaft  and  incurable.     Ye  buildings  knew 
His  filver  tongue    ye  groves  have  heard  it  too; 
At  that  dear  found  no  mope  fhall  ye  rejoice, 
And  I  no  more  muft  hear  the  charming  voice; 
Woe  to  my  drooping  foul !  that  heavenly  breath 
That  could  fpeak  life  lies  now  congeal'd  in  death  ; 
While  on  his  folded  lips  all  cold  and  pale 
Eternal  chains  and  heavy  filence  dwell. 

Yet 


To- the  Memory  of  the  "Dead,       255 

Yet  my  fond  hope  would  hear  him  fpeak  again, 
Once  more  at  leafl,  one  gentle  word,  and  then 
GUNSTON  aloud  I  call:  in  vain  I  cry 
GUNSTON  aloud ;  for  he  muft  ne'er  reply. 
In  vain  I  mourn,  and  drop  thefe  funeral  tears, 
Death  and  the  grave  have  neither  eyes  nor  ears : 
Wandring  I  tune  my  forrows  to  the  groves,  ^ 
And  vent  my  fwelling  griefs,  and  tell  the  winds  our 

loves ; 
"Whilethedearyouthfleepsfafr,  and  hears  themnot: 
He  hath  forgot  me:  in  the  lonefome  vault 
Mindlefs  of  WATTS  and  friendfhip,  cold  he  lies, 
Deaf  and  unthinking  clay. —'•"-- 

But  whither  am  I  led  ?   this  artlefs  grief 
Hurries  the  mufeon,  obftinate  and  deaf 
To  all  the  nicer  rules,  and  bears  her  down 
From  the  tall  fabrick  to  the  neighbouring  ground  ; 
The  pleafing  hours,  the  happy  moments  paft 
In  thefe  fweet  fields  reviving  on  my  tafte 
Snatch  me  away  refiftlefs  with  impetuous  hafte. 
Spread  thy  flrong  pinions  once  again,  my  fong, 
And  reach  the  Turret  thou  hart  left  fo  long  ; 
O'er  the  wide  roof  its  lofty  head  it  rears, 
Long  waiting  our  con verfe;   but  only  hears 
The  noify  tumults  of  the  realms  on  high  ; 
The  winds  falute  it  whiffling  as  they  fly, 
Or  jarring  round  the  windows;   rattling  fhowers 
Lafh  the  fair  fides;  above  loud  thunder  roars; 
But  ffill  the  mafter  fleeps;  nor  hears  the  voice 
Of  facred  friendfhip,  nor  the  tempeft's  noife; 
An  iron  Dumber  fits  on  every  fenfe, 
In  vain  the   heavenly   thunders    ftrive    to  roufe  it 
thence. 

One  labour  more,   my  mufe,  the  golden  fphere 
Seems  to  demand :  fee  thro'  the  dufky  air 

Y  a  Downward 


J 


256     LYRIC   POEMS,     Book  IIL 

Downward  it  (nines  upon  the  rifing  moon; 

And,  as  (he  labours  up  to  reach  her  noon, 

Purfues  her  orb  with  repercuflive  light, 

And  dreaming  gold  repays  the  paler  beams  of  night: 

But  not  one  ray  can  reach  the  dai  kfome  grave, 

Or  pierce  the  folid  gloom  that  fills  the  cave 

"Where  Gunston  dwells  in  death.    Behold  it  flames 

JLike  fome  new  meteor  with  diffufive  beams 

Thro'  the  mid-heaven,  and  overcomes  the  flats; 

"  So  Ihines  thy  Gonston's  foul  above  the  fpheres, 

Raphael  replies,  and  wipes  away  my  tears. 

«*  We  faw  the  flt-fh  fink  down  with  clofing  eyes, 

**   We  heard  thy  grief  (hriek  out,  He  dies,  He 'dies y 

«'   Miftaken  grief!  to  call  the  fkfh  the  friend! 

«*  On  our  fair  wings  did  the  bright  youth  afcend,. 

«*   All  heav'n  cnibrac'd  him  with  immortal  love, 

«■*  And  fung  his  welcome  to  the  courts  above. 

**  Gentle  Ithui  iel  led  him  round  the  Ikies, 

<*  The  buildings  (buck  him  with  immenfefurprizc; 

«(  The  fpires  all  radiant,  and  the  manfions  bright, 

4<  The  roofs  high-vaulted  with  ethereal  light: 

**  Beauty  and  ftrength  on  the  tall  bulwarks  fat, 

«'  In  heavenly  diamond;  and  for  every  gate 

**  On  golden  hinges  a  broad  ruby  turns, 

«{  Guards  off  the  foe,  and  as  it  moves  it  burns; 

"  Millions  of  glories  reign  thro'  every  part; 

"infinite  power,  and  uncreated  art 

*'•  Stand  here  difplay'd,  and  to  the  ftranger  (how 

"  How  it  out-(hines  the  nobleft  feats  below. 

*'  The  (tranger  fed  his  gazing  pow'rs  awhile 

««  Tranfported  :  then,  with  a  regardlefs  fmile, 

«*  -llanc'd  his  eye  downward  thro'  the  cryflal  floor;, 

"  And  took  eternal  leave  of  what  he  built  before. 

Now,  fair  Urania,  leave  the  doleful  drain; 
Raphael  commands:  afTume  thy  joys  again. 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead.      257 


[n  everlafting  numbers  ling,  and  fay, 

;<  GUNSTON  has  mov'd  his  dwelling  to 

"  realms  of  day; 
'  GUNSTON  the  friend  lives  (till;  and  gi 

"  groans  away. 


:o  the  I 
vethy  r 


An  Elegy  on  Mr.  T.  Gouge. 
To  Mr.  ARTHUR  SHALLET,    Merchant. 
Worthy  Sir, 
rJ~'H  E  fubfe.it  of  the  following  elegy  was  high  in  your 
ejleem,  and  enjoyed  a  large  foare  of  your  affeclions. 
Scarce  doth  his  memory  need  the  ajfiftance  of  the  mufe  to 
make  it  perpetual;   but  when  fie  can  at  once  pay  her  ho- 
nours to  the  venerable  dead,  and  by  this  addrefs  acknow- 
ledge the  favours  foe  has  received  from  the  living,  it  is  a 
double  -pleafire  to ,  Sir, 

Your  obliged  humble  fervant, 

I.     WATTS. 
To  the  Memory  of  the  Rev.  Mr.  Thomas  Gouge, 
who  died  Jan.  8th,  1 6-1 700. 
I. 

YE  virgin-fouls,  whofe  fweet  complaint     Pf.  1 37. 
Could  teach  Euphrates  not  to  flow,       Lam.  i. 
Could  Sion's  ruin  fo  divinely  paint,  2,  3. 

Array'd  in  beauty  and  in  woe: 
Awake,  ye  virgin-fouls,  to  mourn, 
And  with  your  tuneful  forrows  drefs  a  prophet's 

urn. 
O  could  my  lips  or  flowing  eyes 
But  imitate  fuch  charming  grief, 
I'd  teach  the  feas,  and  teach  the  Ikies 
Wailings,  and  fobs,  and  fympathies, 
Nor  fliould  the  ftones  or  rocks  be  deaf; 

Y  3  Rocks 


25 8     LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  III. 

Rocks  (hall  have  eyes,  and  ftones  have  cars, 
While  GOUGE's  death  is  mourn 'd  in  melody  and 
tears- 

II. 
Heav'n  was  impatient  of  our  crimes, 
And  fent  his  minifter  of  death 
To  fcourge  the  bold  rebellion  of  the  times, 
And  to  demand  our  prophet's  breath; 
He  came  commiflion'd  for  the  fates 
Of  awful  MEAD,  and  charming  BATES; 
There  he  efTay'd  the  vengeance  firfr, 
Then  took  a  difmal  aim,  and  brought  great  Gourde 
to  dud. 

HE. 
Great  GOUGE  to  dud!  how.  doleful  is  the  found! 
How  vaft  the  ftroke  is!  and  how  wide  the  wound! 

Oh  painful  ftroke!   diftreffing  death! 
A  wound  unmeafurably  wide: 
No  vulgar  mortal  dy'd 
When  he  refign'd  his  breath. 
The  mufe  that  mourns  a  nation's  fait, 
.Should  wait  at  GOUGE's   funeral, 
Should  mingle  majefty  and  groans, 
Such  as  (he  fings  to  finking  thrones, 
And  in  deep  founding  numbers  tell, 
How  Sion  trembled,  when  this  pillar  fell. 
Sion   grows  weak,  and  England  poor, 
Nature  herfelf,  with  all  her  ftore, 
Can  furnifh  fach  a  pomp  for  death  no  more., 

IV. 
The  reverend  man  let  all  things  mourn; 
Sure  he  was  fome  ^Ethereal  mind, 
Fated  in  flefh  to  beconfin'd, 
And  order'd  to  be  born. 
His  foul  was  of  th'  angelic  frame, 
The  fame  ingredients  and  the  mould  the  fame, 
When  the  creator  makes  a  minifter  of  flame.        He 


To  fhe  Memory  of  the  Dead.     2  5  & 

He  was  all  form'd  of  heav'nly  things, 
Mortals,  believe  what  my  Urania  fings, 
For  fhe  has  feen  him  rife  upon  his  flamy  wings. 
V. 
How  would  he  mount,  how  would  he  fly- 
Up  thro'  the  ocean  of  the  flcy, 

Tow'rd  the  coeieftial  coaft  ! 
With  what  amazing  fwiftnefs  foar 
Till  earth's  dark  ball  was  feen  no  more, 
And  all  its  mountains  loft! 
Scarce  could  the  mufe  purfue  him  with  her  fight  t 
But,  angels,  you  can  tell, 
For  oft  you  met  his  wondrous  flight, 

And  knew  the  ftranger  well; 
Say,  how  he  pad  the  radiant  fpheres 
And  vifited  your  happy  feats, 
And  trac'd  the  well  known  turnings  of  the  golden 
ftreets, 
And  walk'd  among  the  ftars.. 
VI. 
Tell  how  he  climb'd  the  everlafting  hills 

Surveying  ail  the  realms  above, 
Borne  on  a  ftrong  wing'd  faith,  and   on   the  fiery 
wheels 
Of  an  immortal  love. 
'  Twas  there  he  took  a  glorious  fight 
Gf  the  inheiitance  of  faints  in  light, 
And  read  their  title  in  their  faviour's  right* 
How  oft  the  humble  fcholar  came, 
And  to  your  fongs  he  rais'd  his  ears 
To  learn  th'  unutterable  name, 
I'o  view  th'  eternal  bafe  that  bears 

The  new  creation's  frame. 
The  countenance  of  God  he  faw, 
Full  of  mercy;   full  of  awe, 
The  giories  of  his  power*  and  glories  of  his  grace : 

There 


2<5o      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book-Ill. 

There  he  heheld  the  wond'rous  fprings 

Of  thofe  celcftial  facred  things, 
The  peaceful  goipel,  and  the  fiery  law 

In  that  majeftic  face. 
That  face  did  all  his  gazing  powers  employ, 
With  niofr  profound  abafement  and  exalted  joy. 
The  rolls  of  fate  were  halt  unlea/d, 

He  flood  adoring  by; 
The  volumes  open'd  to  his  eye, 
And  fweet  intelligence  heheld 
With  all  his  fhining  kindred  of  the  Iky. 
VII. 
Ye  feraphsthat  furround  the  throne, 
Tell  how  his  name  was  thro'  the  palace  known, 
How  warm  his  zeal  was,  and  how  like  your  own  : 
Speak  it  aloud,   let  half  the  nation  hear, 

And  bold  blafphemers  fhiink  and  fear:  * 
Impudent  tongues,   to  blafr  a  prophet's  name! 
The  poifon  fure  was  fetch 'd  from  hell, 
Where  the  old  blafphemers  dwell, 
To  taint  the  pureft  duff  and  blot  the  whiteft  fame. 
Impudent  tongues  you  Ihould  be  darted  thro', 
Nail'd  to  your  own  black  mouths,  and  lie 
Ufelefs  and  dead  till  flander  die, 
Till  flander  die  with  you. 
VIII. 
"  We  faw  him,  fay  th'  ethereal  throng, 
"  We  faw  his  warm  devotions  rife, 
"   We  heard  the  fervour  of  his  cries, 
"   And  mix'd  his  praifes  with  our  fong: 
11  We  knew  the  fecret  flights  of  his  retiring  hours, 

"  Nightly  he  wak'd  his  inward  powers, 
11  Young  Ifrael  rofe  to  .wreftle  with  his  God, 

"   And 

*  TW  he  was/o  great  and  go&d  a  man,  be  did  not 
efcape  cenfure. 


To  the  Memory  of the  Dead.      261 

«'  And  with  unconquer'd  force  fcal'd  the  celeftial 

"  towers, 
ct  To  reach  the  blefling  down  for  thofe  that  fought 
"  his  blood. 

*'  Oft  we  beheld  the  thunderer's  hand 

"  Rais'd  high  to  crufh  the  factious  foe; 
**  As  oft  we  faw  the  rolling  vengeance  fland 

-"  Doubtful  t'  obey  the  dread  command, 
"  While  his  afcending  pray'r  upheld  the  falling  blow* 
IX. 

Draw  the  part  fcenes  of  thy  delight, 
My  mufe,  and  bring  the  wond'rous  man  to  fight.. 

Place  him  furrounded  as  he  flood 

With  pious  crowds,  while  from  his  tongue 
A  ftream  of  harmony  ran  fo ft  along, 
And  every  ear  drank  in  the  flowing  good; 

Softly  it  ran  its  filver  way, 
Till  warm  devotion  rais'd  the  current  ftrong : 
Then  fervid  zeal  on  the  fweet  deluge  rode, 

Life,  love  and  glory,  grace  and  joy, 
Divinely  rolPd  promifcnous  on  the  torrent-flood, 
And  bore  our  raptur'd  fenfe  away,  and  thoughts 
and  fouls  to  God. 

O  might  we  dwell  for  ever  there! 
No  more  return  to  breathe  this  grofler  air, 
This  atmofphere  of  fin,  calamity  and  care.. 

X. 
But  heavenly  fcenes  foon  leave,  the  fight 

While  we  belong  to  clay, 
Paflions  of  terror  and  delight, 

Demand  alternate  fway. 

Behold  the  man,  whofe  awful  voice 

Could  well  proclaim  the  fiery  law, 
Kindle  the  flames  that  Mofesfaw, 

And  fwell  the  trumpet's  warlike  noife. 


262      LYRIC    POEMS,     Book  III. 

He  ftands  the  herald  of  the  threatning  fkies, 
Lo,  on  his  reverend  brow  the  frowns  divinely  rife, 
All  Sinai's  thunder  on  his  tongue,  and  lightning  in 
his  eyes. 

Round  the  high  roof  the  curfes  flew 

Diftinguiming  each  guilty  head, 
Far  from  th'  unequal  war  the  atheift  fled, 

His  kindled  arrows  ftill  purfue, 

His  arrows  ftrike  the  atheift  thro', 
And   o'er  his  inmoft  powers  a  fhuddering  horror 

fpread, 
The  marble  heart  groans  with  an  inward  wound; 

Blafpheming  fouls  of  harden'd  fteel 
Shriek  out  amaz'd  at  the  new  pangs  they  feel,     - 

And  dread  the  echoes  of  the  found. 

The  lofty  wretch  arm'd  and  array 'd 
In  gaudy  pride  finks  down  his  impious  head, 
Plunges  in  dark  defpair,  and  mingles  with  the  dead. 
XI. 

Now,  mufe,  afTume  a  fofter  ftrain, 

Now  footh  the  finner's  raging  fmart. 

Borrow  of  GOUGE  the  wond'rous  art 
To  calm  the  furging  confeience,  and  aflwage  the 
pain; 

He  from  a  bleeding  God  derives 

Life  for  the  fouls  that  guilt  had  (lain, 

And  ftrait  the  dying  rebel  lives, 
The  dead  arife  again; 

The  opening  fkies  almoft  obey 

His  powerful  fong;   a  heavenly  ray 
Awakes  defpair  to  light,  and  fheds  a  chearful  day. 

His  wondrous  voice  rolls  back  the  fpheres, 

Recalls  the  fcenes  of  ancient  years, 
To  make  the  faviour  known  ; 

Sweetly  the  flying  charmer  roves 

Thro'  all  his  labours  and  his  loves, 
The  anguilh  of  hiscrofs,  and  triumphs  of  his  throne. 


To  the  Memory  of  the  Dead,      263 

XII. 

Come  he  invites  our  feet  to  try 
The  deep  afcent  of  Calvary, 
And  fets  the  fatal  tree  before  our  eye: 
See  here  celeftial  forrow  reigns: 
Rude  nails  and  ragged  thorns  lay  by, 
Ting'd  with  the  crimfbn  of  redeeming  veins. 
In  wond'rous  words  he  fung  the  vital  flood 
Where  all  our  fins  were  drown'd, 
Words  fit  to  heal  and  fit  to  wound, 
Sharp  as  the  fpear,  and  balmy  as  the  blood. 
In  his  difcourfe  divine 
Afrefh  the  purple  fountain  flow'd; 
Or  falling  tears  kept  fympathetic  time, 
And  trickled  to  the  ground, 
While  every  accent  gave  a  doleful  found, 
Sad  as   the  breaking  heart  firings   of  th'   expiring 
God.  XIII. 

Down  to  the  manfions  of  the  dead, 
With  trembling  joy  our  fouls  are  led, 
The  captives  of  his  tongue  ; 
There  the  dear  prince  of  light  reclines  his  head 
Darknefs  and  lhades  among. 
With  pleafing  horror  we  furvey 

The  caverns  of  the  tomb, 
Where  the  belov'd  redeemer  lay, 

And  fhed  a  fweet  perfume. 
Hark,  the  old  earthquake  roars  again 
In  GOUGE's  voice,   and  breaks  the  chain 
Of  heavy  death,  and  rends  the  tombs; 
The  rifing  God!  he  comes,  he  comes, 
With  throngs  of  waking  faints  a  long  triumphing  train 
XIV. 
See  the  bright  fquadrons  of  the  fky, 
Downward  on  wings  of  joy  and  hafte  they  fly, 
Meet  their  returning  fovereign,  and  attend  him  high. 

A  finning 


264     LYRIC  POEMS,    Booklll. 

A  fhining  car  the  conqueror  fills, 
Form'd  of  a  golden  cloud; 
Slowly  the  pomp  moves  up  the  azure  hills, 

Old  fatan  foams  and  yells  aloud, 
And  gnaws  th'  eternal   brafs  that  binds  him  to  the 

wheels. 
The  opening  gates  of  blifs  receive  their  king, 

The  father-God  fmiles  on  his  fon, 
Pays  him  the  honours  he  has  won, 
The  lofty  thrones  adore,  and  little  cherubs  Ting. 

Behold  him  on  his  native  throne, 

Glory  fits  faft  upon  his  head; 
Drefs'd  in  new  light,  and  bramy  robes, 
His  hand  rolls  on  the  feafons,  and  the  mining  globes, 
And  fwaysthe  living  worlds,  and  regions  of  the  dead* 

XV. 
GOUGE  was  his  envoy  to  the  realm  below, 
Vaft  washistruft,  and  great  his  (kill, 

Bright  the  credentials  he  could  (how, 
And  thoufands  own'd  the  feal. 

Pis  hallowed  lips  could  well  impart 

The  grace,  the  promife,  and  command; 
He  knew  the  pity  of  Immanuel's  heart, 
And  terrors  of  JEHOVAH's  hand. 

How  did  our  fouls  ftart  out  to  hear 

The  embaffies  of  love  he  bare, 

While  every  ear  in  iapture  hung 
Upon  the  charming  uonclers  of  his  tongue. 
Life's  bufy  cares  a  facred  filtnee  bound, 

Attention  (rood  with  all  her  powers, 

With  fixed  eyes  and  awe  profound, 

Chain'd  to  the  pleafure  of  the  found 
Nor  knew  the  flying  hours. 
XVf, 

But  O  my  everlafting  grief! 
Heaven  has  recalPd  his  envoy  from  our  eyes, 

Hence  deluges  of  fbrrow  rife,  Nor 


Tathe  Memory  of  the  Dead,     265 

Nor  hope  th'  impoffible  relief. 

Ye  remnants  ofthe  facred  tribe 

Who  feel  the  lofs,  come  fhare  the  fmart, 
And  mix  your  groans  with  mine  : 

Where  is  the  tongue  that  can  defcribe 

Infinite  things  with  equal  art, 
Or  language  fo  divine? 

Our  paffions  want  the  heavenly  flame, 
Almighty  love  breaths  faintly  in  our  fongs, 
And  awful  threatnings  languilh  on  our  tongues; 

HOWE  is  a  great  but  fingle  name  : 
Amidft  the  crowd  lie  ftands  alone  ; 
Stands  yet,  but  with  his  ftarry  pinions  on, 
Dreft  for  the  flight,  and  ready  to  be  gone, 

Eternal  God,  command  his  ftay, 

Stretch  the  dear  months  of  his  delay; 
O  we  could  wifh  his  age  were  one  immortal  day! 

But  when  the  flaming  chariot's  come, 
And  mining  guards,  t'  attend  thy  prophet  home, 

Amidft  a  thoufand  weeping  eyes, 
Send  an  Eliflia  down,  a  foul  of  equal  flze, 
Or  burn  this  worthlefs  globe,  and  take  us  to  the  Ikies. 


The  End  of  Mr.  WATTS' s  Lyric  Poems 


A  Funeral 


%66    LYRIC  POEMS,    Book  in. 
A  Funeral  Poem  on  the  Death  of  the  late 

Reverend    ISAAC     WATTS,     T>.   D. 

Who  departed  this  Life,  Nov.  25,  1748. 

Cura  pii  dis  funt,  et  qui  coluere  coluntur. 

Ovid. 

MOURN,  mourn,  Britannia,  mourn  thy  pallor 
dead, 
Whofe  pious  foul  to  realms  of  blifs  is  fled; 
All,  all,  thy  great,  thy  virtuous  fons  deplore, 
For  WATTS,  thy  bard  divine,  is  now  no  more-: 
The  great  exemplar  of  morality, 
O'er  fin  and  death  has  gain'd  the  victory; 
O  glorious  gain !  which  (hall  I  mod  admire, 
Thy  faving  doctrine,  or  poetic  fire? 
Of  humble  ftature,  but  exalted  mind, 
Of  tow'ring  genius,  vafl  and  unconfin'd, 
Which  did  with  great  furprize  our  fouls  delight, 
As  fov'reign  beauty  captivates  the  fight. 
Interr'd  within  the  filent  grave  he  lies 
Mould'ring  to  duft,  obfcur'd  from  human  eye?; 
But  tho'  his  body's  blended  with  the  duft, 
Waiting  the  refurreclion  of  the  juft; 
His  fpotlefs  foul  of  pure  Ethereal  mould, 
(Scorning  by  matter  vile  to  be  controul'd) 
With  pinions  fledg'd  has  wing'd  her  fpeedy  flight,} 
Beyond  the  dark  domain  of  ancient  night;  > 

To  the  eternal  manfions  of  delight;  J 

Replete  with  joys  too  great  to  be  defin'd, 
Or  comprehended  by  a  finite  mind. 
And  he  who  late  attun'd  the  Britifh  lyre,  "\ 

Which  men  and  angels  equally  admire,  / 

Now  chaunts  loud  hallelujahs  with  the  heav'nly  T 
choir;  3 

He 


To  the  Memory  of  the  De  ad.     267 

He  now  inceflant  (trains  feraphic  fings, 
To  the  Lord  of  Lords,  and  king  of  kings; 
'*  While  faints  and  angels  in  full  confort  join, 
"  To  celebrate  the  heighth  of  love  divine," 
He's  feated  on  a  bright  empyreal  throne, 
Grown'd  with  a  glorious  everlafting  crown, 
And  verted  in  a  robe  of  righteoufnefs, 
The  faints  and  angels  pure  celeftial  drefs; 
Lately  incrimfon'd  in  his  faviour's  blood, 
Honours  on  all  God's  favourites  beftow'd; 
He  now  enjoys  his  true  and  only  end, 
Having  his  God  and  faviour  for  his  friend,, 
And  lhall  enjoy  him  to  eternity; 
G  blifsful  ftate!   fupreme  felicity  ! 
He  has  receiv'd  the  great  and  fure  reward, 
Referv'd  for  all  the  fervants  of  the  Lord : 
Then  let  us  not  as  without  hope  complain,, 
Since  tho5  the  lofs  is  oarsy  Ins  is  the  gain. 


FINIS. 


Z2        A  TABLE 


A       TABLE 

OF    THE 

POEMS 

Contained  in  the    FIRST    BOOK. 


WORSHIPPING  with  Fear,'  Page  30 

*  "'    A/king  Leave  to  ftng,  31 

Divine  Judgments,  3a 

Faith  and  Heaven,  34 

Felicity  above-,  35 

God's  Dominion  and  Decrees,  36 

Self  Confecration,  38 

The  Creator  and  Creatures,  39 

The  Nativity  of  Christ,  40 

Goo  glorious,  and  Sinners  faved,  4a 
The  humble  Enquiry.     A  French  Sonnet  imitate-d,    43 

The  Penitent  -pardoned,  44 

A  Hymn  of  Praife  for  three  great  Salvations,       45 

The  Incomprehehjible,  48 

Death  and  Eternity,  49 

A  Sight  of  Heaven  in  Sicknefs,  5X 

The  Univerfal  Hallelujah,  PfaU  cxlviii.  $% 

The  Atheift's  Miftake,  54 

The  Law  given  at  Sinai,  56 

Remember  your  Creator,  60 

Z  3  Sun, 


A     TABLE. 

Sun,  Moon,  and  Stars,  praife  ye  the  Lord,     Page  6a 

The  -welcome  Mejfenger,     '  63 

Sincere  Praife,    '  65 

True  Learnings  66 

True  mjdom,  68 

Song  to  Creating  Wifdom,  70 

God's  abfolate  Dominion,  73 

Condefcending  Grace y  75 

The  Infinite,  76 

Confeffion  and  Pardon,  77 
Young  Men  and  Maidens,  ire.  praife  ye  the  Lord,  80 

Flying  Fowl,  &c.  praife  ye  the  Lord,  81 

The  Comparifon  and  Complaint,  8a 

God  fupreme  and  felf-fufficient,  .84 

Jesus  the  only  Saviour,  85 

Looking  upward,  87 

Chris T  dying,  rifing,  and  reigning,  ib. 

The  God  of  Thunder,  88 

The  Day  of  Judgment,  in  Englijh  Sapphict  89 

The  Song  of  Angels  above,  91 

Fire,  Air,  Earth  and  Sea,  praife  ye  the  Lord,  94 

The  Farewcl,  96 

God  only  kntwn  to  himfclf,  ib. 

Pardon  and  Sanclification,  97 

Sovereignty  and  Grace,  99 

The  Law  and  Gofpel,  loo 
Seeking  a  Divine  Calm,  ire.  Cafimire,  B.  4. 

Od.  28.  IOI 

Happy   Frailty,  10a 

Launching  into  Eternity,  1 03 

A  Profpctl  of  the  Refurretlion,  104 

Breathing  towards  Heaven,  Cafimire,  B.  I.  Od.  19,  106 

Ln  Santlum  Ardalioncm,  ire.  Cafim.  Epigr.  100,  107 
On  the  Prcteftant  Church  at  Montpelier  demoliflied, 

two  Latin  Epigrams  englijhed,  ib. 

Two  happy  Rivals,  Devotion  and  the  Mufe,  108 


0: 


A     TABLE. 

On   Divine   Love. 

The  Hazard  of  Loving  the  Creatures,  Page  11% 

Defrnng  to  love  Christ,  II3 

The  Heart  given  auuay,  II4 

Meditation  in  a  Grove,  xiS 

The  Fair  eft  and  the  Only.  Beloved,  n6 

Mutual  Love  flronger  than  Death,  ng 

A  Sight  of  Christ,  Iiq 

Love  on  a  Crofs,  and  a  Throne,  l2i 
A  preparatory  Thought  for  the  Lord's  Supper,       i%% 

Converfe  -with  Christ,                              £C  1%3 

Grace  pining,  and  Nature  fainting,  Iz  e 

Love  to  Christ  prefent  or  abfent,  I27 

The  abfence  of  Christ,  I2g 

Defrnng  his  Defcent  to  Earth,  I2Q 
Afend.ng  to  him  in  Heaven, 
The  Prefence  of  God  -worth  dying  for:  Or.  the 

Death  of  Mofes,  J  * J  ' 

Long  for  his  Return, 

Hope  in  Darknefs,  AJ 

Come,  Lord  JESUS,  * 

Bewading  my  own  lnconflancy,  T  „ 

Forfaken,   yet  hoping,                 ■  tH 

~The  Conclufion,  J|g 

In   the  Second  Book. 

To  her  Majefly, 

Palinodia-  J43 


13° 
131 


To  John  Locke,  Efa;  retired  from  Buftnefs,  147 

on  Mr.  Locke's  Sicknefs,      ib. 
'■es:  Friendfbip,  l48 

To  Sariffa:  An  Epifle,  *g 

To 


A     TABLE. 

To  Mr;  Thomas  Bradbury :  Paradife,  Page  1 55 

Stritl  Religion  very  rare,  158 

To  Mr.  C  and  S.  Fleetwood,  160 

To  William  Blackburn,  Efq;  Cafim.  B.  2.  Od.  2,     16a 
True  Monarchy,  163 

True  Courage,  1 64 

To  the  much  honoured  Mr.  T.  Rowe :  Free  Phi- 

lofophy,  166 

To  the  Reverend  Mr.  Benoni  Roive:  The  Way  of 

the  Multitude,  167 

To  the  Reverend  Mr.  John  Howe,  168 

The  Difappointment  and  Relief,  1 70 

The  Hero's  Schotl  of  Mortality,  171 

Freedom,  173 

On  Mr.  Locke's  Annotations,  &c.  1 75 

True  Riches,  1 76 

The  Adventurous  Mufe,  1 78 

To  Mr.   N.  Clark:  The  Complaint,  181 

The  AffliBions  of  a  Friend,  l8z 

The  Reverfe;  or,  The  Comforts  of  a  Friend,  184 

To  the  Right  Honourable  John  Lord  Cuts:   The 

hardy  Soldier,  1 85 

burning  fiveral  Poems  of  Ovid,  Martial,  &c.        186 
To  Mrs.  B.  Bendyjh:  Again]}  Tears,  187 

Few  happy  Matches,  1 88 

To  David  Polhill,  Efqj  An  Epiftle,  1 90 

The  celebrated  Vitlory  of  the  Poles,  &c.  Cafimire, 

B.  4.  Od.  4,  19* 

To  Mr.  Henry  Bendyjh:  The  Indian  Philofopher,     199 
The  happy  Man,  201 

To  David  Polhill,  Efq;  An  Anfwer  to  an  infa- 
mous Satire  againft  King  William,  204 
To  the  Dt [appointed  and  Unquiet,  Cafim.  B.  4. 

Od.  15,  208 

To  John  Hartopp,  Efq;  Cafim,  B.  J.  Od.  3,     210 

Te 


A     r  A  B !I,  E. 

To  Thomas  Gunfton,  Efq;  Happy  Solitude,  Cafim. 

B.  4.  Od.  12.  Page  21% 
To  John  Hartopp,  Efq;  The  Dlfdain,  214 
To  Mitio,  my  Friend:  The  Mourning-Piece,  215 
The  fecohd  Part:  or,  the  bright  Vlfion,  219 
The  third  Part:  or,  the  Accounts  balanced,  226 
On  the  Death  of  the  Duke  of  Gloitcefier,  &c.  228 
An  Epigram,  22$ 
To  Mrs.  Singer;  on  the  Sight  of  fome  of  her  Di- 
vine Poems  unprlnted,  230 
To  his  Excellency  Jonathan  Belcher,  Efq;  23X 

In  the  Third  Book* 

An  Epitaph  en  King  William,^  333 

An  Elegiac  Song  on  Mrs.  Peacock,  235 

An  elegiac  Thought  on  Mrs.  Anne  Warner,  237 

On  the  Death  of  Mrs.  M.  W.  240 

A  Funeral  Poem  on  Thomas  Gunfton,  Efq;  245 

An  Elegy  on  the  Reverend  Mr.  Gouge,  2J7 

A  Funeral  Poem  on  the  Death  of  Mr.  Watts,  266 


Books  printed  and  fold  by  R.  Aitken», 

Doctor  Buchan's  Family  Phyfician. 

EfTay  on  the  Character,  Manners  and  Genius  of 
Women,     Z,  Vols. 

Burgh's  Art  of  Speaking. 

Dr.  Croxal's  Fables,  with  pertinent  Applications- 
Walker's  Practical  Difcourfes. 
Dr.  Lowth's  Englifli  Grammar. 
Ruddiman's  Rudiments  of  the  Latin  Tongue. 

Chefterfield's  Principles  of  Politenefs,  extracted  by 
Dr.  Trufsler. 

Grofvenor's  Mourner. 

Gregory's  Legacy  to  his  Daughters. 

Oeconomy  of  Human  Life.     In  Two  Parts. 

Janneway's  Token  for  Children.    In  Two  Parts. 

Watts's  Pfalms. 

Watts's  Divine  Songs  for  Children. 

New  Teftament. 

Dilworth's  Spelling  Book. 

Baptift  Confeffion  of  Faith,  &c. 

Baptift  Catechifm. 

New  England  Primer, 

Larger  and  fhorter  Catechifms. 

*%*  A  general  Aflortment  of  Modern  Books,  Claf- 
Ucs,  and  Stationary. 


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